Already Dead
by hawkflight of riverclan
Summary: The days repeat themselves- go to school, fail his tests, fight ghosts. Rinse and repeat. Danny was getting tired of it. That is, until the arrival of new ghosts tear the plan apart. After dying for the second time, Danny is determined to find answers- and to stop these ghosts from hurting anyone else.
1. Chapter 1

Danny was tired.

It wasn't the usual all-nighter type exhaustion he was used to, nor was it the weary ache he felt after waking up after a particularly bad gym class. It was the deep seated, crippling _exhaustion_ someone felt after staying up for a week on end, the pain of strained muscles and stress induced headaches pulling you to bed so you could sleep. Or die. The kind of tired you felt when you wanted everything to just freeze and wait for you to catch up.

Needless to say, the past few days had been rough. Ghosts, both old and new, had been popping up more and more often. Sometimes he felt like he couldn't go an hour without having to go stop some disaster. His body was covered in bruises and littered with cuts, not that his parents noticed. He was lucky he hadn't broken any bones. But as it was, he would be fine. He'd been fine before, through bruises, breaks and everything else life had decided to throw at him. This was nothing.

Still... it was all adding up. He couldn't take it much longer. Even Sam and Tucker were doing far better than he was; they weren't on patrol every single night, and they weren't actually fighting as much as he was. Their grades were better, though still not exceptional, and neither of them looked like they were going to collapse at any moment, or like a skeleton with skin stretched over the bones like he did. He was nearly failing every class. He was all but dead on his feet. He couldn't take it anymore.

He couldn't live like this. He couldn't keep going to school and doing other _normal_ things while also fighting off the ghosts that escaped from the Zone. Couldn't do homework without a government agent breathing down his neck. Every new day felt like it was just a step closer to his ultimate demise. He acted like he was okay. He smiled and joked with his friends, he did his best to keep up appearances. He wasn't just avoiding the problems, or the lectures he was sure to get from Sam, Tucker, and Jazz. They seemed to know something was off already, _especially_ Jazz, but she had stopped pressing him for answers.

Maybe he'd snapped at her one too many times…

But no, he wasn't just hiding it for his own sake. He was doing it for _them_. He didn't want them to worry or feel guilty. He didn't want them to have to deal with his problems when they all had their own already. He could handle this, he'd been dealing with it since he'd gained his powers. He was going to have to deal with it for the rest of his life. Well, unless they managed to get the ghost problems solved permanently, which would actually be pretty great.

Without the constant attacks, he'd actually be able to take a break. Too bad that was never going to happen.

So, yeah. Danny was tired. But… it hadn't really caused that much of a problem until today. Sure, his grades were failing, his thoughts were slow and erratic, he was twitchy and always two seconds from either lashing out or breaking down, but… he could handle all that. It wasn't ideal, but he could deal with it. Even if he _did_ mess up and something went wrong, he could always fix it. He could always solve the problem. Until today, at least… the day where he couldn't fix anything.

* * *

Danny yawned, heading straight for his bed as soon as the door to his room was closed. The day had been long and hard, and he wanted nothing more than to just go to sleep and forget everything for a while. There had been multiple ghost-related incidents, ranging from Skulker to Technus to the Box Ghost, along with two essays and a test. He'd gone out with his friends, avoided Jazz, and dodged around his parents latest ghost destroying invention. The new ecto-gun they'd designed actually seemed like it could be dangerous, if they could use it right. He might want to steal it from them later, just in case...

Really, it'd just been a full day, though that was nothing new. He collapsed onto his bed, eyes slipping shut as he sunk into the soft mattress and soaked up the warmth from the pile of blankets and pillows he was laying on. His muscles finally let themselves relax, and his mind slowed.

It was these moments that he yearned for the most. The times when he could just take a break. Nothing to do, no walls to keep up. He could rest. Recover. But of course, the world loved to ruin them. A wave of _cold_ flowed through him, a faint trail of blue smoke slipping from his mouth. He groaned, sliding from the bed onto the floor and glaring out the window.

"_Really?_" He muttered, "Can't you guys just give me _one_ night off?"

He pulled at the cold, icy core in his chest, letting twin rings of light invelop him and change him from human to ghost. He wavered, even from his place on the floor, head light. Everything felt like it was spinning or tilting or _something, _the ground unsteady beneath him. He hissed through clenched teeth, steadying himself as he stood up.

When he could keep himself from tipping over, he grabbed the thermos from his bedside table, feet leaving the ground as he floated to the wall and phased through it. He peered around outside, quickly catching sight of the cause of the disturbance. He paused, frowning. He couldn't recall ever seeing her before. Great, just the thing he needed. Another new threat.

She was tall, with blue-grey skin and short, blue hair. Her clothes were torn and worn, but they were obviously expensive. She was zipping along the street, house to house, peering through each window for a moment before moving on. He blinked in surprise as she moved one side of the street to the other in a blur. She was fast.

"Hey!" he called, floating over to the house that she was currently looking into. Maybe if he was lucky, she wasn't here to cause trouble, and he could just talk to her and then be on his way. She turned, looking up at him. And... okay, that was just _horrifying_.

Half her face was covered by a mask, silver that gleamed blue in the light, with short slits littering it around where her eye would be. The other half looked _awful_. Her eye was sown partially shut, and what he could see behind the lid was torn apart. Her cheeks had been cut and sewn up again, crossing from the cuts into the ends of her lips, imitating a smile. Little scars speckled her face, longer and darker ones poking from behind her mask. He paled. What on _earth_ had happened to this ghost?

"Child," she said, nodding to him. Her voice echoed slightly, adding a slight waver to her tone. She looked around, frowning as much at she could. "Have you seen… no, no. That's cheating. They would be so very upset if I asked you."

She turned away from him, zipping along to the next house. He blinked. That had been… interesting. At least she didn't seem violent. But the last time a ghost came looking for something, it had ended badly. Actually, now that he thought about it, _every_ time something like this happened it ended badly. And who was the 'they' she was talking about? Was it a group? A person? He trailed after her.

"Um, miss? What are you looking for?" He asked, peering into the window she was currently looking through. Everything looked fine. She glanced at him, or, well, she might have? It was hard to tell.

"Cheating, child." She moved on to the next window. He followed.

"Then I won't tell you where to get it, if, uh, I even know." He offered. She didn't respond. Come on, all he wanted was to be done. Couldn't she work him at least a little? "Look, this town? It's mine. I need to know what you're here for."

She finally turned to him, managing a frown at the expense of tearing her face on the strings of her stitches. A bit of ectoplasm dripped slowly from the new tear in her skin.

"Child," she murmured, "not only is it cheating, but if you knew, they would be very upset with me. I cannot tell you."

With that, she zipped to the other side of the street. He growled, core pulsing with energy. He flew over to her again.

"Okay, lady," he started, "look. You don't have to tell me exactly, just tell me you aren't stealing or hurting anyone or damaging anything, then we can both move on from this."

She slowed slightly, allowing him to fly by her side as she continued down the street..

"You are just as stubborn as they told me you would be." She said. She didn't even try to quiet her voice. But, stubborn was practically a complement compared to some of the other things ghosts had called him. "Phantom- that is your name, isn't it? It is what they told me."

He waited for a moment before he realized that she actually wanted an answer.

"Uh, y-yeah, I guess. It's Danny Phantom, but most ghosts just, um. Call me Phantom, yeah." Gosh, he was tired. She nodded.

"Danny." She paused, as if filing the name away. "I cannot tell you what you want to hear. They do not appreciate lying."

His core pulsed, blood running cold. He knew it. He'd hoped that he wouldn't be right about this, but of _course_ she was here to cause trouble.

"So what are you doing? Are you going to hurt someone? Take something?" He demanded. "You need to tell me, and you need to _leave."_

She stared at him. Probably.

"I am not here for that, as far as I know. They told me to find V-... someone. They said I would know what to do then." She turned away. "Whether that is servitude, murder, theft, warning, spying, or something else entirely, I know not. So while I can't tell you I am not here to hurt someone, it's just as likely that I am to be helping them."

He hesitated. If there was even a _chance_ that she aimed to cause harm to something in his town, then he couldn't let her go. Her target …the name started with a v? Vlad immediately came to mind, but it would be hard to even think of looking for him _here._ If you wanted Vlad, you'd go to his new mansion or town hall. Whoever it was, though, he couldn't let this ghost get to them. But… if it turned out that she was here to help… shouldn't he let her?

"...who is 'they'? Who are you listening to?"

"They don't appreciate being known."

"Sounds like they don't appreciate a lot of things."

She smiled. At least, he thought she did. Maybe that was just the stitches.

"They do not. But they are my employers. Now," her voice hardened, "will you let me complete my objective, or are we to fight?"

He paused. He didn't _want_ to fight, honestly. And she might be here to help someone. But if she was going to hurt someone…

"How about," he started, tentative. She tilted her head. "How about I come with you. No helping, no cheating, just. Following. And when you know what you're here for, you tell me, and then we decide."

It wasn't exactly ideal, he wanted to go home, but he didn't want to fight yet, or risk stopping her from helping someone. She hesitated, face pinched, before sighing.

"Alright then, child." She said. "Come with me."

It was a very uneventful flight. The ghost he was following, Alkadih, apparently, wasn't very talkative, leaving him to trail after her. Her way of searching seemed to be peering through a window before moving on. Occasionally she would stop in a random spot in the street or a park, seeming to be trying to feel something. After a moment or two of staying still, she would bolt in a seemingly random direction and continue the search through the windows.

He was left to follow, stop, and follow again. He almost nodded off while waiting for her several times, somehow, in the seconds he got to stay still. She'd gently suggested that he go and 'hibernate', but he'd refused, and she quickly dropped the subject. He was actually starting to regret that decision now...

He started just trailing after her blindly, not paying any attention to where they were. Everything was just a blur, and he barely managed to keep himself moving after her. It was all just the same dull grey. That is, until he felt her hand wrapping around his throat from behind him, searing cold. He jerked away, whirling around to face her. She just floated there, looking sad.

"What was _that?!_" He demanded, adjusting his posture into a more defensive stance. "I thought we had a deal!"

She bowed her head and put her hands together, almost looking like she was praying. Or begging.

"Forgive me, Danny. Our deal has come to completion."

He looked around wildly, taking in the empty field around them. He could see Amity Park a little ways off, on the horizon. He was _sure_ it was Amity. He would always recognize his town. Why had they left it, though?

"Why are we _here?_ What happened to _telling_ me what you were going to do?"

She cocked her head.

"I found my target. I am going to kill her." She said, still looking guilty. "But we had a deal. I always honor my promises. I didn't want our fight to cause any destruction to that town, and you were rather content to follow me away from Amity. It's a nice place. You've done well with it."

He shoved away the pride that crept its way into his core at her praise of Amity. This was important. She was going to kill someone. He needed to stop her. But first...

"So you keep promises? What happened to telling me? What happened to that?"

"I _did_ tell you. You just didn't respond." She said softly. "I thought I could subdue you without causing too much harm. I'm not here for that."

"Well, you're going to have to get past me to get back to Amity now. Sorry, Alkadih, but I _can't_ let you finish this job."

She raised a hand, sickly green energy wrapping around her fingers. Ectoplasm leaked from her one visible, damaged eye. When she spoke, her voice was pinched.

"Then I'm sorry as well, child, but you will both die tonight."

* * *

Danny struggled to lift himself from the ground, arms shaking. He didn't feel tired anymore, at least. Instead he just felt pain. Joined with the lingering effects of his tiredness, which were still there, even if he didn't feel it, his injuries did a good job at keeping him down. His head spun and his thoughts were staticy. It was too cold and hot all at once.

There was a deep gash in his left side, the newest injury. He hadn't gone intangible or contorted his body fast enough. Ectoplasm and blood swirled together and flowed from the gaping hole where flesh should be. It was pretty, to his addled mind. He coughed, the tang of iron, copper, and the bitter spice of ecto energy on his tongue.

Bruises and cuts and gashes littered his body, but the injury in his side was the worst. This was one of the worst injuries he'd _ever_ received in a battle. It didn't cut him in half or anything, and it didn't go deep enough to come out the other side in his back, but it was _close._ Blood flowed from the wound, refusing to stop or even slow. His vision swam and spun, little flecks of black digging into his eyes.

Alkadih landed in front of him, battered and tired. That last hit had been a cheap shot, but she'd needed it. She fell to her knees, panting despite not needing to breathe.

"You… You are better than they said. You are better than most."

He groaned, reaching to his core, trying to summon enough energy to get up, or blast her away, or something. He couldn't, instead collapsing back to the ground. It should've been hard and uncomfortable, but it just felt soft and welcoming. His eyelids were heavy. He couldn't think.

"I am truly sorry, Danny." A voice whispered, distant and underwater. Why were they so far away? His eyes slipped shut. A hand gently rested on his back. And then came the pain.

He screamed, throat raw. His back arched in agony, and he tried to pull away. He couldn't, the hand just dragged him back, tearing him apart. It _hurt._ Why did it hurt so much? He opened his eyes, and it took so, so much effort to get them to stay open as he struggled on the ground. He caught sight of her, finally, and he _wailed._ His core was almost depleted of energy, but he kept screaming, even after she was knocked far away. Her mask slipped off her face, and in her eye he saw his death. Both of them. The accident, in the lab. And one that hadn't happened yet. She was going to _kill_ him, here in this field.

He stared into that one, undamaged eye, and saw her other target. Valerie. _Of course_ it was Valerie. In the vision, she was dead. Strung up from the ceiling fan in her apartment. Eyes sewn shut. Mouth open, blood leaking out from her lips. He froze.

"Valerie." The sound, for it was more a sound than a word, was ragged. A whisper. A whimper.

She was going to _kill_ Valerie. And the other ghosts would destroy his town. Something in him broke, then, and he was suddenly there, on top of Alkadih, his hand, not intangible, through her stomach. He reached, pushing through ectoplasm and bone until his hand wrapped around her core. She screeched, a blood curdling, primal sound. She wailed in agony, more than he'd felt, he was sure, as her form wavered and contorted.

And without pity, he crushed her core.

She froze for a second, body flickering, before fading away.

His strength left him then. He collapsed, jostling all his injuries as he did so, and laid there, unmoving.

He could still see Amity Park from here.

He could still get back.

But he was _so tired._

He could rest here, for a while.

The grass was soft.

Twin rings enveloped him as his consciousness faded. After the bright light went out, his eyes, still focused on his town, slipped shut. He lay there, human, bleeding, alone. But it would be okay. He had bandages in his room. Sam, Tucker, and Jazz would be able to take care of him. They were amazing. They were _his._ He'd go to them. Just, after he got some sleep. He just needed some rest.

He would fly back home tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright! One, I do not own Danny Phantom. We'll just get that out of the way right here.**

**Two... I'd like to thank everyone for the positive response to this story. I wasn't going to post it, but I'm glad I changed my mind. So, I present to you, chapter two. It's shorter than the last one, but I should get the next one up pretty quick. I'm not sure how often I'll update, but it should be at least once a week.**

* * *

Danny groaned, trying to shut his eyes tighter against the light that was shining through his eyelids. He whimpered softly, curling up to try to hide his face. The light _hurt,_ even with his eyes closed. Curling in on himself hurt as well, sending fire racing through his limbs and claws digging into his side. Not real claws, though. Or, he didn't _think_ they were real, at least.

He forced himself to crack his eyes open, just enough to see, hissing as the light seared his eyes. Why was it so _bright?_ He clenched his teeth and looked down. His suit was torn, and sickly green scabs coated his flesh, ectoplasm leaking from them where they had torn as he'd moved. No actual claws though. That was good news, at least.

There _was_ grass, however. What the heck was up with that? Was he outside? Why on earth was he sleeping _outside?_ And why was he in his ghost form? He usually shifted back in his sleep…

It explained why the light was so bright though. It was the sun.

He groaned and sat up, arms trembling as he pushed himself into a sitting position. What had even _happened_ last night? Why was he in a field? He lifted a hand to his head, pulling it away in disgust as something cold squelched onto his face. He grimaced, letting out a quiet sound of displeasure. His hand was _drenched_ in ectoplasm.

Made sense, if he'd been so injured, but… it just didn't feel right. It was too dark to be from him, and… there was no blood mixed in with it. He hesitated, before bringing his gloved hand back to his face and sniffing it. It was definitely ectoplasm, and it definitely _wasn't his._ He stared in shock. What had he done to get so much of the stuff, which was, in this form, basically ghostly _blood,_ on just his _hands?_ He tried to shake it off, but only a few flecks of the sticky substance flew from his fingers.

He shuddered, trying to remember what had happened. He'd been home. He'd just got back. And then his ghost sense went off… And then… and then _something._ He couldn't quite remember. _Why couldn't he just **remember?**_ He bit his lip. Or, he tried too. He bit down on his fingers instead.

Ectoplasm slid down his throat.

Danny gagged, resisting the urge to wipe off his tongue with his hands, spitting out as much of the stuff as he could. That was _disgusting._ That was… that was just super gross. There wasn't any other way to describe it.

He reached out, wiping his hands on the grass, which didn't work very well. It just _refused_ to come off. Great. He was stuck with it then.

And then he remembered he could turn intangible.

_"Duh."_ He said, voice slightly distorted, as was the norm for his ghostly form. "I always forget about that…" He reached for his core, freezing as he realized how depleted it was. It usually recharged in his sleep, at least a little, so for it to still be this bad… His core felt _weird_ as well. _Off._ If he had to explain it, he'd say it felt more… clear. More a part of him, though he hadn't thought it _could_ be.

But it was still nearly completely depleted. He really, _really_ needed to figure out what happened. Was cleaning himself up worth using up the rest, or at least _most,_ of his energy? Looking down at the ectoplasm still coating his hands, he decided that it was. Or, he thought so, at least. He wanted the stuff _off_ of him, but… he couldn't bring himself to turn intangible. It felt like such a _waste._ Not of energy. Of the ectoplasm.

"What are you even talking about?" He muttered to himself. "What does that even _mean?"_

He glared at his hand. It was odd. He knew he wanted _something,_ but he couldn't think of _what._ His core seemed to almost vibrate, edging him on. He frowned, but closed his eyes and followed his instincts.

He stuck his hand into his mouth.

The bitter tang of ectoplasmic energy was somehow sweeter now than it usually was, though not by much. It wasn't like he normally ate the stuff on purpose or anything, but the Ghost Zone was practically made of it, and he'd bitten his tongue and coughed it up enough to know what it tasted like. He pulled his hand away from his mouth, just slightly, licking his fingers clean. It worked much better than his previous attempts to clean his hands, for whatever reason. Danny's core thrummed, taking in the remnants of power that were left in the ectoplasm. He hummed, content.

And then the reality of everything hit him.

Bile rose in his throat, his eyes wide, and he hunched over, side flaring with agony, vomiting. Instead of whatever acid and food mix he'd expected, all that fell from his lips was the ectoplasm he'd just eaten.

Oddly enough, he felt no desire to do anything with it now except turn away from it. No, not odd. That was _good._ Normal. _Man,_ his thoughts were messed up. What was _wrong_ with him? Was he sick? Had he hit his head?

Either way, or, he supposed, with any other reason there was to explain it, he needed to get back home. Back to Amity Park. To his town. His people. It was _his._ And _so_ _many_ ghosts attacked anyway. He hissed, core pulsing as a sudden _anger_ flowed through him. They all needed to _learn._ They needed to _suffer._ He'd destroyed one already, the rest shouldn't be that difficult.

He froze.

_Destroyed?_ No. He'd _never-_

He shuddered, flashes of a half hidden face, of Valerie, dead, and a core running through his mind. The core wasn't his. It was Alkadih's. The ghost he'd been fighting. It belonged to her. And he'd destroyed it. _Crushed it._ That ectoplasm was hers.

_And he'd **eaten** it._

He hunched over, head spinning, stomach churning, but having nothing to expel. He dry heaved, side screaming, collapsing back to the ground. Why had he done that? Why had _he-how_ could he even _thought_ of-

What was _wrong_ with him?

Both the killing, and the eating. Why had he done either of those things? How could he have done that? She had been attacking, sure, but she hadn't deserved to be _destroyed._

His core thrummed in his chest, humming. It had regained a bit of power from the ectoplasm, feeding off the last bits of energy left in it from Alkadih. She was dead. She was gone, forever. Because of _him._ And then he'd eaten-

He gagged.

There was definitely something very, very wrong with him. Why had he even had the urge to do that? Why had he followed through?

He needed help. He needed Jazz, and Sam, and Tucker. They were his friends. His family. They were _his._ They would help him. They would.

He struggled to his feet, head spinning, searching the horizon for Amity. It wasn't too far away. He could fly there. He definitely couldn't walk, but he could fly.

He pulled himself upwards, feet leaving the ground. His head spun for a moment, vision blurring, before everything snapped back into focus.

"Come on, just get back home. Then you can rest." He muttered. Jazz would help him then. They had medical supplies in his room. If he could just get home, it would all be okay. Clutching his now freely bleeding side, he began his flight back to Amity.

* * *

As soon as he crossed into Amity Park he felt better. Not completely, but better. His chest felt lighter, his stomach settled. His core was thrumming happily, and he just felt… good. It was great to be back in his territory. His town. His home.

He drifted through the air, weaving between buildings. He'd go faster, but he really just wanted to enjoy Amity. And… he had been wanting to go to Fenton Works, but now that he'd remembered Valerie and he was here… He wanted to check on her. He _needed_ to.

Hunter or not, she was his friend. She was _his._

And, _wow,_ when did he get so possessive? Of the town, of his friends, of… everyone in Amity, really. Heck, even _Dash._ All of them. He knew that most ghosts were extremely possessive and territorial, but he'd never really gotten that. Not this much, at least. Apparently it was finally catching up to him.

He paused at an intersection, debating. Go left, and he'd be home. He could get help. Go right, and he could check on Valerie.

"Well, right is always the right decision… right?" He whispered to himself, biting his lip. His teeth felt sharper than usual… "Yeah, I've heard that somewhere before."

Therefore, he had someone else to blame for his choices, if they turned out to be poor ones. He wasn't sure who'd come up with the phrase, but now he had evidence to fall back on if this was a mistake. So with that, he darted towards Valerie's apartment..

He picked up his pace now, the need to make sure Valerie was safe stronger than his desire to enjoy his flight. Buildings passed right and left, and people walked on the streets below. He smiled. Even Alkadih had seen how great Amity was. It was wonderful. It was _perfect._ And it was his. It belonged to _him._

He frowned.

_"Seriously,_ what is up with my head?" He muttered, raising one hand to his forehead as he continued to fly. As soon as he checked on Valerie, he needed to get to Jazz. Maybe she could help him figure this all out. But first… "Gotta find her."

He flew quickly, not caring about the energy he was wasting, or the way his side seemed to bleed more with every pulse of his core.

* * *

The apartment was a bust.

It was empty, both father and daughter gone. Anxiety rippled through his core as he searched, looking for any sign of Valerie. Where was she? Where could she have gone? Did Alkadih actually kill her before taking him to the field? Or, maybe her employers sent somebody else to finish the job?

Could they have _killed_ her?

Deep, boiling anger rose on Danny's chest. _Hatred._ If they had laid even a _finger_ on her then he didn't even _know_ what he would do to them. It wasn't until he found a calendar that he remembered that she was probably at school. He was already moving to leave before he realized that he probably shouldn't go.

He was definitely still low on energy, and there was the matter of his injuries. The one in his side was definitely the worst, but with how he felt it was likely he had cuts and bruises as well. No broken bones, as far as he could tell, but even so. The occasional injury he showed up with was bad enough. If he shifted into his human form to go to school right now, he'd probably look like he'd been hit by a car. On top of that, he also just didn't want to deal with it. He wanted to be _home,_ with his friends and Jazz. But he _needed_ to make sure Valerie wasn't hurt.

"...Okay, just stop by for a bit, check on her, maybe find Jazz, Tucker and Sam… take them with me, maybe?" He smiled. It was the perfect plan. At least, it was to him. A small voice in the back of his mind said that he was too unstable to be making decisions right now. He ignored it.

Plan in place, he slipped through the wall of the apartment, and headed towards Casper High.

* * *

The school was full. That was pretty normal.

There were people everywhere, students wandering the halls. Their noise grated on his ears as he floated invisibly above them all. Dash was talking to Paulina, while Star and the other satellites talked with Kwan and Dash's other friends. And, yeah. He was _not_ going to deal with the A-listers today.

He wasn't sure what time it was, but this was either a break or first period hadn't started yet. He stayed near the ceiling, heading towards Valerie's locker. She would probably be there, right? Right.

Danny flew through the halls, scanning the faces of the people he passed, until he finally saw her. Just as he'd thought, she was at her locker, pulling out a few books and putting them into her backpack. She looked a bit tired, but that was normal for her now. Ever since she'd become a hunter, she'd been patrolling the city at night, like he did. Not as much as him (at least, he didn't think so), but enough to be exhausting.

His worry gave way to relief as he watched her, as he realized she was okay. Alkadih _did_ keep her promise to him then… He pushed away his guilt at the reminder, biting his lip. Would… would Valerie still be a target? Would _he_ be a target? Alkadih's employers would _probably_ still be after Valerie, for whatever reason, and… they would be angry that Alkadih was gone, right? _He'd_ been the one to kill her, so would they be after him as well? It made sense.

Danny bit back a groan. He didn't want to deal with this. He just… maybe tomorrow. Maybe then he could think, but today? No.

...Should he warn Valerie about it before she left? If she was being targeted, she needed to know. But if he tried to talk to her as _Phantom,_ she'd probably shoot him, even if he was injured. Heck, _especially_ if he was already injured. He'd be an easier target then. In human form, he'd need a _really_ good explanation for how he knew… and, possibly, for why he had a giant hole in his side. Which, now that he remembered, still hurt. A lot. It hadn't fully scabbed over again, and a bit of ectoplasm still oozed from it.

A single drop of the bright green liquid ran down his side, falling to the tiled floor below. Now not in contact with him, it was fully visible.

He dropped down, quickly trying to wipe it from the tiles with a hand. The stuff just spread, forming a larger pool. He hissed softly, darting back up to the ceiling before someone could walk into him or something. The stain was… You know what? It would be fine. What were the chances of anyone noticing a little pool of ectoplasm? Low. Hopefully. That kind of thing was normal at this point.

But… there was something wrong with it. It was solid green. That wasn't right. His blood… it was always a mix of green and red, human and ghost halves coming together. But that was just a drop. That wasn't cause for alarm. If he just looked down at his side, he would see everything was fine. If he let himself turn visible, he would see, his blood was still red and green. It would be, he knew it.

He could fly up outside, and check. He could make sure he was okay. But… he couldn't. He wouldn't let himself. Fear held him back. What if… what if something _was_ wrong? What would he do then?

… He just couldn't do this today. He couldn't _think._ He couldn't _act._ He couldn't… _do this_.

Maybe he should just find his friends. And Jazz. They might have ideas. And… they could make sure he was okay. Maybe Jazz could find a way to warn Valerie too. And then they could all just go home. Rest, and make sure they were all fine.

"Y-yeah…" he whispered, quite enough that nobody else could hear. "Just find them. It'll be okay. You'll be okay. J-just find them."


	3. Chapter 3

Finding his friends was simple. He knew all of their classes, as they shared most of them. The ones they didn't share, he'd had to learn in case of an emergency. On top of that, he knew their routine. Where they would usually be at any given time. He also knew Jazz's schedule. Somehow he'd managed to memorize hers instead of his own for the beginning of almost every school year. He was expecting to find Tucker and Sam at their lockers, and Jazz in her classroom, as she tended to be early for every single class unless there was something going on.

He wasn't expecting to find her with his friends, crying.

Danny froze for only a second before darting over to them, panic surging through his core. He kept up his invisibility, as there were a few last stragglers along with his friends in the hall, though it was a constant drain of energy. He wouldn't be able to keep it up much longer.

"Jazz?" He whispered, concern thick in his voice. He was right next to her, able to see her shoulders shaking. All three of them jumped, and Jazz's eyes went wide. Her head whipped around to face him, but her eyes were flicking around wildly. Invisibility. Right.

"D-Danny?" She asked, forcing her voice into a whisper. She looked like she wanted to yell his name, but she apparently realized that it would draw attention. "Is that you?"

He nodded, before realizing she couldn't see him.

"Y-yeah, it's me. Jazz, are you okay? You're crying."

She laughed, hiccuping. Sam sighed, glaring in his general direction.

"Well, _someone_ disappeared and didn't come back." Her voice was flat. "He gets into a lot of dangerous situations _without telling anyone_, and _risks his life daily._"

"We were all worried, dude." Tucker continued. "None of us had any idea where you were."

He drooped, slowly sinking to the ground until his feet were planted on the floor. His core felt heavy, weighing him down. He'd worried them all so much. He had made Jazz cry. He didn't even _think_ about how they were feeling this whole time…

"Oh." He whispered. "I… I'm sorry."

Sam's face fell, going from stubborn anger to guilt in a second. Tucker mirrored her, kicking at the ground softly. Jazz… she just started crying again.

"Don't." She said softly. Gently. She wasn't mad. Deep down, he felt she should be. "It's not your fault. I'm sure it was important." She sniffed and wiped her eyes. "The important thing is that you're okay."

He didn't deserve them. They were too good for him.

The hall was empty now. First period was probably starting. And it was just getting to be too much to keep drawing on his core. After a second's hesitation, he let himself turn visible.

Immediately their faces turned to shock, which then bled into horror.

"Danny!" Jazz gasped, reaching out to him but freezing, like she wasn't sure she could touch him without him breaking. "Are you okay? W-what happened?"

Tucker looked like he was going to be sick, leaning against the wall of lockers. Sam was frozen.

He shrugged.

"I… fought a new ghost. She was… strong." He finally let himself glance down to his side. _All green…_ "I… could we go home? There's some… stuff. I need to tell you, and I'm not… I don't t-think I'm doing okay?"

"Danny, if you… have you seen yourself?" Tucker asked, eyes trailing from his side, up to his face, and down to his legs. Danny frowned.

"No, but I… look, can we talk at home? Can we just go, please?" He reached to his core, preparing to switch from ghost back to human. There wasn't really a point to being Phantom at the moment. Maybe he could save some of his energy and… _it wasn't working._

He could hear his friends talking. They were saying something, but they sounded far away. He tugged at his core again, but the rings didn't appear. He didn't turn human. His core didn't even respond to his efforts the way it usually did. It didn't feel like there was something blocking the transformation, but like… he'd forgotten how? No, that wasn't quite it… It was like his core had lost the ability.

His blood ran cold.

Suddenly dizzy, he backed into the lockers lining the wall of the hall they were in. There was a sudden hand on his shoulder, and he looked up, Jazz's worried expression snapping him to reality again.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

"Obviously not." Sam interjected. "Are you even seeing him? We need to get him out of here."

He agreed. Sam always had the best ideas. Well, except for that one time… and the time when… and- okay, maybe not always, but right here, right now, she was right. And he was wrong. There was something wrong with him. Very, very _wrong._

"Guys…?" He asked, barely whispering. They all looked at him, expectant. Waiting. He swallowed thickly. "I can't… I can't turn back."

"Turn back?" Tucker repeated. "Like, into a human?"

Danny winced, but nodded. His head was spinning. They all shared concerned glances.

"If you can't, then… Is it a good idea to go home?" Jazz asked. He hissed through clenched teeth. That was true. Going home so hurt was already a bad plan, going home a hurt _ghost_ was _definitely_ not a good plan. He tugged at his core again, this time getting a response in the form of pain. He gasped, slipping down the locker wall to the floor, eyes squeezing shut.

"Danny!"

He couldn't tell who was talking anymore. Everything was fading in and out, underwater static. There were hands on his shoulders, pulling him up. Where were they going…? His eyes cracked open, tiled floor and locker lined walls rushing past. He was being carried. He thought he was, at least… It was probably Jazz. Good. It would be okay. It was okay.

They would take care of him.

His eyes slid shut.

* * *

Everything was blurry. His thoughts slid and scattered in his head, and the light coming through his eyelids dimed and brightened with no warning, no pattern. His body ached, and he knew if he woke up fully it would hurt far more. …He didn't want to wake up.

There were voices above him, mere whispers. They were familiar, and he felt better with them talking. He didn't understand the words, or even tell if there _were_ any words amidst the soothing cadence of sound, but he didn't mind. He just let himself sink back into the static comfort of unconsciousness…

But then, one of the voices left. He could hear the thumps of feet against the floor, and one of the three voices didn't come back, even as the other two continued dancing in the air above him. Where did it go? Was it coming back? Why was it leaving him? What did he do wrong? The other voices were great, but there was an empty space now, a nagging feeling disturbing him. He needed them _all._ They were all supposed to be with him.

He whimpered, cracking his eyes open. He needed to find out where the voice went. Everything was just blurring together though, colors mixing into an unappealing green. The two remaining voices disappeared. His eyes snapped open. Why? What had he done to make them leave?

"C-come-" He coughed, body flaring in pain. A hand rested on his shoulder, and he whimpered, pulling away. It disappeared, and he immediately missed the warmth and contact.

"Danny, it's okay." One of the voices murmured. It was female. More awake now, he recognized it. Jazz. Jazz was with him. "Deep breaths, it's okay. We're with you. Relax, little brother. Rest."

He blinked, everything finally snapping into focus. Jazz was leaning over him, eyes red and puffy. Her face was pinched with concern, and her smile, though genuine, was shaky. Tucker sat beside him, worry clear on his face as well, his PDA was in one hand. And…

"S-Sam?" He whimpered. She'd left him? She'd been the one to go? Why? What had he done? She was supposed to be here, with him and the others. What did he do to make her leave?

"Shh, Danny, it's okay. She'll be back, okay?" Jazz whispered, taking one of his hands in hers. "She just went to get some things, okay? She'll come back."

He crumpled in relief. It was okay then. Everything was fine. Except…

"Valerie." He tried to sit up, but the pain and Jazz pushing him back down won, and he fell back onto the bed. His free hand clenched into a fist. "You need to warn Valerie."

Tucker frowned.

"Why? What's wrong with Valerie?"

Danny's core flared, and his eyes burned.

"There's nothing _wrong_ with her!" He hissed. "There's nothing-" He cut himself off, closing his eyes. Tucker hadn't meant it like that. It was fine. Calm down, calm down, calm down… He took a deep breath, opening his eyes. Jazz and Tucker were both watching him warily, though obviously still concerned.

"It's… I'm sorry." He whispered.

"It's okay Danny, you've been through a lot." Jazz said softly. "Why do we need to warn her?"

He hesitated, gathering his thoughts.

"Alkadih, the ghost I, uh, left to go fight. She… she was after Valerie." His mouth was dry. He was leaving out some big details here… "She was working for someone. They sent Alkidih to kill Valerie, and I s-stopped her, but her employers are still out there, and they'll probably send _more_ people after her, and m-me now, since I-I… I…"

"You stopped them, and kicked their plans into next week." Tucker supplied. Knowing their luck, the consequences for this probably _wouldn't_ wait till next week, but… He nodded slowly. He had stopped them, just… perhaps a bit too well.

Jazz narrowed her eyes.

"Danny," she began, "you have a right to have secrets but… If there's something you need to say, you can say it."

Tears stung his eyes.

"I… you _need_ to know, but I d-don't…" _want you to hate me_. He'd _killed_ someone, even if it had been a ghost. How could they look past that?

"It's okay, take your time." She said, and he really, _really_ didn't deserve them as friends. He was about to open his mouth, about to say something, though he didn't know what, but the door opened at that moment. He looked up, finally taking in what he recognized as Tucker's room. Sam, thank goodness she was back, carefully closed the door with her foot, two bags filling her hands, and turned to come in. She froze as she saw Danny, awake and aware. A flurry of emotions flashed across her face, finally settling into a cold, unreadable mask.

"Daniel James Fenton, you'd better-"

"Phantom." He interrupted, and she paused, confused.

"What?"

"Daniel James… Phantom." He repeated. "My name."

The group exchanged glances.

"Danny, what's your _real_ name?" Tucker asked slowly. Danny frowned.

"That _is_ my name."

"Daniel James…" Jazz trailed off. He filled in Phantom again. Really, he didn't understand why they were all so confused. That was his name. It had always been. Jazz's eyebrows scrunched together. "What's _my_ last name?"

"Fenton."

"And we're siblings, right?"

He hissed. What were they doing? What was the point of these questions? They had more important things to worry about. They were stupid questions anyway.

"Yeah, of course we are." He replied. "But, Jazz, what's the point of this? I-"

"Why are our last names different then, Danny?" She asked. He paused. "If mine is Fenton, but your real, actual last name you were _born with_ is _Phantom,_ why are they different?"

Wait, that… that didn't make any sense. He was Phantom, he knew that was true. He'd always been Phantom, that was his _name._ Daniel James Phantom. But… Jazz's name was Fenton. They… _shouldn't_ be different. He knew their last names were supposed to be the same, but… they weren't.

He bit his lip, trying to think, but his head was spinning. He didn't _understand._ He was sure they were the same, but… What was wrong? Something wasn't right, but he couldn't quite tell what it was. He looked up, about to speak, to ask what was wrong with him, but when he saw Sam he stopped. She was pale, even paler than usual, and she was frozen, eyes wide with shock. She dropped her bags, a few rolls of bandages, medical ointments, and water bottles rolling across the floor.

"S-Sam…?" He asked, hesitant. She snapped out of her shock, and stumbled over to the bed.

"Danny," she sounded urgent- panicked even, "what _exactly_ happened to you last night?

She sounded so urgent, so _scared._ There was something in her eyes, a deep, dark pit that seemed to consume her. There was a knowledge, an idea, forming in those eyes. And it _wasn't_ a good one.

He swallowed, took a breath, and began recounting what had happened. He started slow, hesitant, but as he went on, a dam broke and he couldn't stop the flow of words that flowed from his lips. The details he wanted to skip over poured from his mouth in a wave, a torrent of information. He tried to slow down and skip over some things, but the waterfall of words couldn't be swayed now that they had began to spill over. It was like trying to build a dam in a raging river, with a few leaves as your only tool.

Every little detail, from how tired he was to the stitches sewn across Alkidih's face. From the reasons for their deal to the honest guilt and regret that he saw in the ghost he'd killed. He spoke of the fight they'd had, and the visions he'd seen in her eyes.

He couldn't stop himself from speaking of the anger he'd felt, the fierce desire to protect himself, Valerie, and Amity itself. His hands began trembling as he explained what he'd done, how he'd wrapped his hand around her core and _shattered_ it, how she was dead and never coming back.

He couldn't look at their faces as he told them of his final moment before losing consciousness, alone, losing both blood and strength. He told them about when he woke up, confused, and so, so, so devoid of energy. About how he'd eaten the left over ectoplasm and taken energy from it- to which both Sam and Tucker seemed ready to vomit-, and how he'd flown back to Amity.

He stopped then, as Jazz pressed a finger to his lips. She pulled him into a hug, rubbing his back, carefully avoiding any injuries. He trembled, and soon that bled into shaking and shivering. Tucker and Sam approached and surrounded him, and just _stayed._ They were still with him, after all that. He smiled shakily. _How_ did he get such amazing people as his friends?

Danny sniffled, and in that moment he realized his face was wet with tears.

He couldn't remember when he'd started crying.


	4. Chapter 4

Eventually, Sam pulled away from the group hug. Danny let out a whine at the missing warmth, begrudgingly falling silent as Jazz pulled him closer.

"Okay," Sam sighed, looking down at him seriously. "There are a few things we have to address."

A spark of fear pulsed through his chest, and he curled up slightly. She couldn't be angry, right? She hadn't seemed to be just a second ago…

"First up, we have Valerie." She began, raising a finger. "We need to figure out what they have against her. And we'd better warn her while we're at it."

Danny relaxed. This was fine. It was good, even. They _did_ need to figure this all out. Jazz raised her hand.

"I can try to tell her." She volunteered. "It wouldn't be too out there for me to overhear a ghosts plan, seeing as the portal is in our basement." There was a hint of bitterness there, an old anger. Their parents did a lot of things that weren't exactly… _good_ for children, but the lab was one that Jazz never really got over. All the weapons, made for ghosts, but capable of harming humans as well, all the talk of death, and the days spent with their parents absent, holed down in the basement, working on their newest invention… The lab wasn't even ever locked, just waiting to swallow someone foolish enough to wander down into it.

After the accident with the portal… well, it didn't help Jazz's views.

"Cool. You'll take care of that, then" Sam said, raising another finger. "Second, there's… Danny. You… well, I have an idea. I don't like it, but it's the best theory I have."

Danny felt a chill. Tucker frowned, and Jazz, when he looked up at her, was worried.

"What is it?" She asked. "Is it about why he can't transform anymore?"

Sam sighed, folding her arms and glancing away. She was troubled. More troubled than usual, at least.

"Yeah. Well, it's about everything, but… yeah, it'll explain that too."

"So?" Tucker prompted. "Care to share with the class?"

"...No. I _don't_ want too. But it needs to be addressed. Okay," she held out her hands. "Save everything until the end, but… I think you… I think…" She shut her eyes. "I think you might have died."

His blood- ectoplasm?- ran cold.

"Like, in the lab? That one?" He asked hopefully. He _knew_ it wouldn't be that, but he couldn't let himself think that maybe… it had happened again. She shook her head.

"Think about it. We know you heal fast, but… with all those injuries, _especially_ that one," she gestured to his side, "and how tired you were? You said you turned back before blacking out, right? And it had to have been a few hours before you woke up. What are the chances of you bleeding out, or that something important was damaged? Tuck?"

He looked away.

"Good. Or, bad. I mean- just…" Tucker's eyes closed, his voice going soft. "The chances of him bleeding out with that hole in his side? It's practically _guaranteed_ without getting immediate attention."

"Which you didn't." Sam continued. "And when you woke up, you were in ghost form, right?"

Danny nodded hesitantly.

"_Every time_ you pass out, you turn back. It's happened enough for us to know that's true. You don't just go ghost in your sleep." She bit her lip, as if she had something more to say, but she didn't want to say it. "...Has there been anything else weird?"

He didn't want to tell her. If he told her anything she would use it as evidence for him being completely, one hundred percent dead. He couldn't be dead. He _couldn't_ be. But he couldn't lie to them.

"Y-yeah, I guess there is." He hesitated, before continuing. "I've been more… possessive. More protective, if you can believe that. A bit… unstable, maybe. My blood… it's only ectoplasm, as far as I can tell. A-and… it's colder? Like, I'm _always_ cold, I have an _ice core,_ but… I-I'm colder than usual."

Sam nodded stiffly.

"The first two… what if your human side held that kind of thing back? Now that it's gone, or, _if_ it's gone… there isn't anything to keep your ghostly nature in check? And that could explain the… uh. Eating ectoplasm too. You draw energy from the Zone, which is made of the stuff, right? So… maybe your ghost half knew it was low on power, and instinctively fed off of what it knew it could get more energy from." She thought for a second, before nodding to herself. Danny looked to Tucker, hoping for disbelief or an alternate explanation, but, to his horror, Tucker was nodding slowly. _He agreed that it was a possibility_.

"The cold could be the same thing…" He murmured softly, looking at Danny with a pained expression. Still, there was a dark acceptance in his eyes. A flicker of doubt, maybe, but no argument. No alternate explanation.

He looked up to Jazz, twisting around in her embrace despite his sides protest. She wouldn't believe it, right? She couldn't. **_He_** couldn't. She had a far away look in her eyes.

"The instability is probably because of the shock and trauma," She said softly. "It Isn't a sign that he's dead."

Sam dipped her head, looking relieved. Danny's heart soared. There! Something else. It was all probably just psychology stuff.

"True." Sam said. "There's one other thing, though. Your name."

"What about it? Why do you guys keep asking me about that?" He snapped, guilt immediately rushing to replace his annoyance. "I'm sorry, I-I just- …What's wrong with it?"

"This obviously isn't true for all ghosts, like Sidney Poindexter or Johnny, but… In a lot of different lore, after someone dies, they forget things." She explained. "Most commonly, it's their name. Sometimes their first, others their last… Think about it. The Lunch Lady lived at some point, but everyone just knows her as the Lunch Lady. Same with the Ghost Writer, and the Box Ghost. What's Johnny's last name anyway? Because it's _not_ 13."

Danny trembled. Could that be true? He _knew_ his name was Danny, but… could his last name be wrong? He knew there was something wrong when Jazz pointed out the difference in their individual names. But… applying the name 'Fenton' to himself just felt… _wrong._ That was his parents last name, and his sisters, not _his._

But was it before…?

His core pulsed. A fierce denial rose in his throat, before it died on his lips. It all made too much sense, but… he couldn't accept that. He couldn't believe that. How would he live? How would he go to school, or the arcade, or see his friends?

How would he go _home?_

This couldn't be right. He couldn't let himself believe it. He just **_couldn't._**

"No." He whispered, eyes flashing. "That isn't what's happening."

"Danny," Jazz said softly, pulling him into another hug. "Maybe this is-"

"No!" He yelled, pushing himself off the bed, away from her. "It can't be! It can't… I-it…"

His vision darkened, and he fell into a crumpled heap, side screaming in pain. He gasped, allowing three pairs or hands to gently lift him and place him carefully back on the bed, laying on his back. He could feel ectoplasm slowly leaking from his side, having destroyed the fragile dried coating over the wound once again.

Tears leaked from his eyes.

"It can't be true. There has to be another reason." His voice was a deadened whisper, fragile, barely loud enough to carry beyond his lips. "How would I live? How would… How would I tell them? Without being able to shift, what proof do I have?" They all bowed their heads. They didn't need him to tell them he was talking about his parents. "I don't have any proof for them. All I have is an explanation they'll take as lies, you guys, who are _clearly_ being possessed or manipulated, and science that's _'impossible'."_

"Maybe-"

"I couldn't even say that I'd died! Phantom… I existed long before last night, when their son… when _I_ disappeared."

He couldn't do this. There was no way.

"...I'll check the books. See if there's anything else in lore?" Sam offered. "If there's any other explanation in them, I'll find it."

"I can check online. There could be something there." Tucker said.

Jazz smiled at Danny.

"I'll deal with mom and dad, and make sure they don't do anything too crazy while you're gone. You," she added, "will stay here and rest. I don't want you out of bed until you've recovered."

He frowned. For one thing, that would take a while, and he was sure that his ghostly enemies wouldn't agree to even a temporary treaty. For another…

"But this is Tucker's-"

"Chill, dude." Tucker said. "My parents are out of town, and the couch is great. You know, for a couch."

Danny smiled. He was really getting repetitive, but his friends were amazing.

And if there was an alternate explanation, they would find it.

* * *

It had been two days since they'd come up with the 'dead' theory. So far, no one had come up with any alternate explanation for what was happening to him, and he could tell they were losing hope. He was pretty sure that they were still looking only because he'd asked. For that, he was grateful. But… it hurt to see their faces when they reported that there had been no new information. They seemed hopeless, and sad, and like they thought they were… _disappointing_ him. He hadn't wanted them to feel that way.

But he couldn't just tell them that it was okay, that they could stop. The thought of giving up hurt just as much.

Tucker would sit with him most of the time, unless he was at school. Jazz visited often, and had told him that their parents were now in a panic trying to find him. He'd been missing for two days at this point. They'd made announcements, and there were now people searching for him. Not like they'd ever find him, if he was stuck in ghost form forever.

He did feel guilty that he was worrying his parents so much, and for the hundredth time, he wished he had told them before this. If they'd accepted him, then he could be home right now. They wouldn't be as scared as they must be, searching for him desperately.

As it was, he was just making things worse for everyone.

But he needed to be sure! He couldn't just accept himself being dead without looking for another option. He couldn't stop searching until he'd exhausted every other possible route to take. ...wait a second...

That… that was it! Clockwork would know! He knew everything, every possibility, every different path that Danny's trainwreck of a life could take. Clockwork would know what happened to him. Danny just had to get to him…

He carefully rose, trying not to upset his side anymore. It had healed, mostly, in the two days of forced bedrest, but he didn't want to give it a reason to get worse. The slower healing was another thing wrong with him. Or, well, he couldn't really tell if he was healing slower or if this injury was just worse than the others he'd ever received, but… He felt like it should be healing faster than it was.

But that didn't matter right now. What mattered was getting to the Ghost Zone.

Guilt, strong and sharp, pierced his core. The others would be worried about him, but he had to go. He _had_ to talk to Clockwork.

He stopped just long enough to scribble down a quick note, and then phased through the wall into the outside world. He kept himself invisible as he made his way towards his house, not wanting anything to distract him.

It was odd, how many times the health hazard of a home had been useful. There had been weapons, tools, and information galore in the lab, many of which had helped him at some point. The blimp had come in handy a few times as well.

In this case, though, he just needed a portal.

* * *

Tucker sighed, shutting off his computer. It was no use. He couldn't find a thing, no matter what portions of the internet he traveled to. He glanced towards the stairs, debating talking to Danny for a while. After a moment though, he decided against it.

It wasn't like he didn't want to hang out with him, but he just didn't want to disappoint him again. His best friend (sorry Sam) had seemed different for the past two days, but that had to be expected. Even if he wasn't dead, he'd gone through something bad. He'd killed a ghost, possibly putting a target on his own head, and he'd at least _almost_ died for sure.

Tucker didn't want to see Danny's face filled with hope just to squash it again. He just needed a good resource, someone that knew a lot about ghosts, half ghosts specifically. And… he knew one of those, didn't he? The beginnings of a horrible, _horrible_ plan began to form in his head. It was stupid, and probably wouldn't amount to anything good, but… there was a _chance._

"Aw, man." He groaned, cradling his head in his hands. "I'm gonna die…."

Despite that being far too possible, he got up from his chair, wandering over to a garbage bag next to the stairs. It was empty save for used bandages, all covered in Danny's ectoplasm. The stuff worked for DNA samples, right? And ectoplasm didn't work like blood did, so this stuff was probably still good...

With a sigh he picked out the best candidate- and Danny seemed to be right, his blood looked to be only ectoplasm at this point-, and put the strips of bandage in a plastic bag, which went right into his backpack.

Before he knew it, he was outside, riding his scooter down the sidewalk. He should probably get help, but the others would probably just try to talk him out of this. It was a bad idea, and he knew it, but it was the best idea he had.

The odds of success were probably low, but… if there was even a chance it would work, he had to try. For Danny. He shook his head, cursing himself.

Honestly, the chances of Vlad helping him were almost zero. But it was the only shot he had.


	5. Chapter 5

**Alright. Sorry this chapter is so... well. Is it late if I don't have a schedule? Anyway. I'm still trying to figure out a good way to update often, while not running out of pre-written chapters. I'll figure it out, but for now, thanks for the patience. This one is short, but I'll put the next one up soon.**

* * *

Danny drifted towards the open portal, conflicted. He wanted to go in; besides the need to find Clockwork and get answers, there was just something about the portal drawing him forwards. It was a tugging feeling, pulling at his core. But at the same time, he needed to _stay_. There was a part of him that didn't want to see Clockwork, that didn't want to know. There was something in him that needed to stay here, in his town.

He stared into the swirling green of the portal, the paper thin barrier between him and the truth, and… he wasn't sure if he wanted it anymore. But… he'd come all this way. It wasn't that far, but he'd carried the weight of guilt with him from all the way from Tucker's home until he'd stopped here. He couldn't just go back after that.

"...Just go. At least you'll get something out of this that way." He muttered to himself, edging closer to the portal. After just a moment of hesitation- he was still injured. He was weak, he could run into people that really, _really_ didn't like him, maybe even the mysterious_ 'them'_-before he passed through the swirling ectoplasmic fog that acted as a gateway to the Ghost Zone.

As soon as he entered the Zone, he was hit by a rush of energy. His senses heightened, and he suddenly became aware of the ectoplasm that made up the world around him. It was _filled_ with energy, and his core thrummed deep within his chest, drawing it in from the 'air' around him, power coming in an even greater rush as he breathed it in. It buzzed in his veins, and arched between his fingertips.

He was fully aware of the damage done to his body, but didn't feel as much pain as before. It went from an ache to a faint twinge, though he was aware that though it was outwardly healing, the internal da mage was festering. It was still getting better, but slower. There was something interfering, almost like a poison or an infection, held in check by his power, weak enough to dissolve into nothing, but only just. It was slow, agonizingly so. It probably explained his lack of energy as well. His core couldn't store his power if it was being used to heal a poisoned wound.

Everything seemed clearer, yet it was the same as before. It all battled for his attention, scattering his thoughts. Why was he here again? It took him a second to remember.

"This is _not_ the time to space out," he told himself. "You can worry about this whole mess later."

Danny started off, heading deeper and deeper into the Ghost Zone. He avoided the hundreds of floating doors and islands. He didn't want to have to deal with any of the Zone's residents, whether he knew them or not.

As he travelled, he became increasingly paranoid. He could feel something watching him, a cold stare burning into his back, but his ghost sense hadn't gone off, and no matter how many times he checked, there was nothing there. No movement besides the faint motion of the doors as they bobbed up and down.

"Get yourself together, Danny," He told himself, glancing around. "There's no-one there. You're just imagining things..."

He continued, moving faster in his need to escape the feeling of eyes burning into his flesh.

* * *

Tucker hesitated on the doorstep of Vlad's mansion, the one he 'ruled' Amity from. This was his last chance to turn back, his last chance to go home and forget about this stupid plan. He could feel the danger, a thick, angry field surrounding the building, trying to turn him away. He faltered, ready to go back, before the thought of Danny's hopeless, hollowed eyes came to him. If this was the only way to help, Tucker _had_ to go through with it. This was a chance to help Danny, a chance to maybe, just _maybe_, turn up with an alternate explanation for what had happened to him. To help bring the life back into his eyes.

He needed to go through with this, to talk to Vlad. To even make a deal if he had to. This was his only shot. Even if it was stupid, and dangerous, and… y'know what, it was just a horrible idea in every possible way. Except… Vlad knew about Halfa's, and he knew a lot about them. He also knew a lot about ghosts in general. Or, Tucker thought he did. He _had_ to know, having been a Halfa himself for years. He had a lab, he had the time, so… Vlad had to know _something,_ at least.

"Okay," He said, raising his hand to knock. "This'll be fine. Yeah."

He rapped sharply on the door. Hopefully he'd actually be let in…

It only took a second for the door to open, and he was greeted with the sight of an older man, wearing a suit. It wasn't Vlad. The stranger had a thin sheet of dark hair, shaved close to his head. He had tan skin, but it held an almost… flaky, shiny quality. His eyes were brown, but tinted green in a slight, mostly unnoticeable ring near the edge of his iris. He was a ghost.

"Yes?" The ghost asked, looking at him with disinterest. Tucker swallowed, reconsidering his recent choices. Even if it was only Vlad, or this stranger, he was severely outclassed. Somehow he hadn't realized that there could be more people- _dangerous_ people- he would have to try to deal with. This could get bad, this could get him hurt, kidnapped, or worse. But… it was too late to go back now. They'd already opened the door.

"Uh, hey." He squeaked. His face warmed slightly and he cleared his throat. "Um, I mean. Hello. I'm looking for Vlad. Is he here?"

The ghost eyed him, as if evaluating his worth.

"And why would he want to talk to you?" He asked, raising a thin eyebrow. Not a good first try, but Tucker continued anyway.

"Please, it's… it's _important._ I have to talk to him."

"Is this something Mayor Masters needs to address personally?" Asked the ghost. His voice had become thin, with something dangerous lurking behind his disinterested tone. Did this ghost recognize Tucker, or was he just really bad with people? Who was he, anyway?

"_Yes._" He stressed. The ghost said nothing. Tucker grit his teeth. Why did he have to work so hard for something so stupid? "Listen. You know me, right? And my friends? I wouldn't be at _Vlad Plasmius's_ house if it wasn't _important_."

There was silence for a moment, before the ghosts eyes lit up with a bright, toxic green glow.

"I know you." He said lowly, still somehow keeping himself seeming disinterested. "So why should I allow you inside?"

Tucker took a deep breath. Hopefully playing on Vlad's odd (non-ghostly) obsession would work.

"Because I need his help." He met the ghosts eyes, which were still glowing green, and continued. "Something bad happened. To Danny."

The ghost paused, thinking. Tucker figured this ghost worked for Vlad, and Vlad liked Danny; he was all but fixated on him and his mom. So maybe there was a chance that bringing Danny into the conversation would get the ghost to let him inside, or at least notify Vlad to the fact that he was here. After a long, agonizing second, the ghost backed away, holding the door open. Tucker let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding, stepping through the doorway as he was waved inside.

* * *

Danny's ghost sense finally went off, and it was somehow a relief. He wasn't just imagining things; something was there. But, then, he realized what that really meant. There was someone nearby. In the Ghost Zone. The place nearly everyone _hated_ him, and currently… he wasn't in the proper state to fight them off.

"Shoot," he hissed, whirling around with wide eyes, casting his gaze around. Where were they? ...Who was it? There was nothing he could see besides all the floating debris, islands, and doors. It was an endless void of green, no ghosts that he could see. But, then, there were plenty of doors to hide behind. He could just leave it, but… If they were following him like he thought, then he needed to deal with it now.

"Hello?" He called. "Is someone there?"

There was no response. Danny looked around, drifting towards the nearest door. He peered behind it, finding nothing. He frowned, spinning in a slow circle. He could _feel_ something here, something _close._ He still couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on him, or the cold, dangerous sensation of something being just out of sight, waiting. He swallowed, moving to continue on his way to Clockwork, when he caught a flash of movement from the corner of his eye. He whirled around, heart in his throat, hand up, ready to blast it away. And then, he relaxed, laughing weakly.

Floating just a few feet in front of him was a wisp.

It was small, even for a wisp, a little ball of white light with a tail of smoke. He'd seen other colors, and other sizes, but no matter the type, wisps were generally friendly. They were practically harmless, though they were extremely curious, and somehow very good at getting into places they shouldn't. If this was all that was following him, he'd be fine. Still, he looked around one last time. There was nothing, even the feeling of being watched was gone. All that panic for one little wisp. He smiled, waving at the little light.

The wisp let out a small chime and flared slightly brighter, zipping over to him. It flew around him a few times, finally stopping to bump into his chest, chirping. He chuckled, reaching out to pet it. He didn't know too much about wisps, but they reminded him a little bit of dogs. Most ghosts ignored them, but he'd heard a few things. They were lesser ghosts, barely sentient, if they were sentient at all. The wisp let out a whirring purr, glowing brightly.

Danny smiled, holding out his hand, and the wisp settled into it with a soft chirp. He raised his other hand, creating a small orb of energy in his palm. The wisp jumped to it, absorbing to energy eagerly. Wisps were a bit tricky. They fed off energy of all kinds. The energy blasts he used to fight ghosts would probably just be another food source for them. But he didn't want to hurt them on accident, so the small, weak beginnings of an attack were the biggest meal he was willing to give them, just in case.

The wisp gave a little chime and flew up to burrow into his hair. He chuckled, trying to look up and see it despite the impossibility. He reached up, scooping the wisp from off his head.

"Come on, get down." He said, gently cradling the wisp in his hands. "Alright little guy, I've gotta go now, okay?"

He wasn't sure if the wisp could understand, but he liked talking to them. He let go, letting it float on its own. He tapped it softly in farwell, almost like patting someone on the head or ruffling their hair. Danny turned, oriented himself, and started off again. He didn't get that far before the wisp flew into his path, chirping. He frowned. They didn't usually follow him around, preferring to wander. Even if you fed them, they would usually either leave or stay behind once you left. Did it... want something? ...He supposed it wouldn't do any harm to take it with him, and honestly, he liked wisps. They were like the puppies of the Ghost Zone.

"Hey, you… you wanna come with me?" He offered.

It chirped, immediately burrowing into his hair. He sighed, but allowed it. ...It was actually kinda cute. It seemed like it actually understood him as well… maybe the other ghosts were wrong about the little guys. Maybe they were like the others after all. Or, alternatively, they could be like animals, caring for tone, not meaning. After making sure it was settled and wouldn't fall, he continued his flight towards Clockwork's lair. He'd wasted a lot of time. He needed to get there and back before his friends realized he was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

Danny landed at the entryway to Clockwork's lair, and hesitated. Would Clockwork mind him coming? It wasn't like Danny was asking for anything more than an answer, and he and Clockwork were on good terms. Really, Clockwork was practically _family_, like a grandfather, or maybe an uncle. He wouldn't mind if Danny visited, right?

"Well," he said to himself, kicking absently at the ground beneath his feet, "it's kinda late to think of that now."

It really was. He was practically in the doorway, he couldn't go back _now_. With a deep breath, he flew into the lair. Danny didn't pay much attention to the lower levels of the clock tower; they were practically empty anyway. Instead, he made his way to the top level, where Clockwork usually was. He'd fly through the floor, or just into the upper level in the first place, but… that would be kind of rude.

The room was like Danny remembered, big and mostly empty. Clockwork was observing his window, the one that Danny and his friends had seen, and then ran into, the future from. Danny let himself drift to the ground, knocking softly on the wall.

"Hey, Clockwork." He said, slightly hesitant. The uneasy feeling evaporated when Clockwork turned and smiled at him. The expression was welcoming and kind, the way he always was. It seemed that he really was fine with Danny showing up uninvited again. Danny immediately relaxed, making his way over to the older ghost.

"Daniel," Clockwork said, reverting to his middle aged form. "To what do I owe this visit?"

Danny faltered, the sharp fear and worry one again stabbing through his core. What if he didn't like the answer he got? What if…

But he couldn't just keep waiting. He needed to know, or he was going to lose his mind.

"I think you already know," He glanced to the side for a moment, before looking back up at Clockwork. "I need answers."

Clockwork shriveled and aged before Danny's eyes, leaving the ghost old and thin. His eyes were sad.

"And yet, you don't want them," The ghost said softly, looking back to his window. "I saw it happen. Did you know that in all my years, there have been only four instances I have desperately wished to assist, to the point I almost broke my oaths to do so?"

Danny shook his head. Clockwork sighed.

"There is a fifth instance in which I _did_ assist you, when you dealt with your future self. Two of the other four times, it was also because of you. One was while you fought Pariah Dark. The last, Daniel…" He turned to face Danny, and his eyes were filled with sadness. No, more than that. It was _helplessness._ "The last was when you died, just three days ago."

* * *

Tucker was led through the house, and finally left in a small room with instructions to wait and _not touch **anything**_**.** He wasn't sure if sitting in one of the few chairs spread throughout the room counted or not, finally deciding that he didn't want to risk earning the ghosts ire. So he just stood there. Waiting.

How did he know that Vlad was even actually coming? Maybe the ghost had locked him in, and he was going to slowly starve in a horrible- … well, actually, it was a _nice_ room. There was an ornate coffee table with a vase full of flowers in the center, and the chairs looked soft and comfortable. There was a thick rug over a dark wood floor, which gleamed in the light a few windows provided.

Yeah, there was no way this was a cell of any kind.

Just then, the door opened, and this time, Tucker was greeted by Vlad. Somehow, he was relieved to see him instead of his butler again. At least he _knew_ what Vlad's type of crazy was… The older man looked down at him, expression unreadable.

"Ah, Mr. Foley," he said, walking to the largest chair and settling into it, completely unconcerned with Tucker's presence. He tried not to feel offended. "What's so important that you would come to me? This isn't just a distraction to cover up something that girl and Daniel are planning, is it?"

Tucker shook his head, standing awkwardly. Vlad frowned, and motioned towards a chair that sat across from his own. Tucker sat down slowly, still tense, perched on the edge of the seat.

"Well?" Vlad asked expectantly, impatience seeping through his calm facade.

"I…" Tucker swallowed, working up his courage. "I need your help. Something really bad happened, and we think we know, but Danny isn't taking it well, and honestly? None of us are, so we're looking for something else and we can't find _anything._ And we don't even know if our guess is _right,_ because none of us know as much about ghosts as we _should!_ And I thought you'd _have_ to know, because you must know a lot more about Halfa's than we do."

Tucker stopped, taking a few deep breaths. Vlad's eyes were narrowed.

"You need a ghost expert? No, not even that. A _Halfa_ expert. Well, that could only mean this is about... " He fell silent, eyes going wide. He looked stricken, and suddenly he was right in front of Tucker, leaning down, hands grasping the arms of Tucker's chair to support himself. His eyes were a thick, glowing red, the light seeming to almost ooze and threaten to drip from his sockets. "_What happened to my badger?_"

Tucker fell back in his chair with a shriek, cowering, arms in front of his face. After a few seconds passed without him getting shot or otherwise killed or injured, he looked up, and met Vlad's gaze with his own. The man's eyes made it clear that Tucker had only a few moments to begin speaking before everything fell apart. Or, more accurately, until Tucker was torn to bloody pieces. He swallowed, trying to calm his racing heart; the pounding in his ears was distracting.

"That," he said, trying to keep his voice from trembling, "is what I need you to figure out."

* * *

Tucker soon found himself in Vlad's basement lab, waiting in a corner that he was sure was the only place he was allowed to be. Vlad was analyzing the ectoplasm soaked bandages Tucker had brought, while having his Maddie AI (which was still creepy, by the way) run other tests. As Vlad read the data, and examined a small sample under a microscope, and a dozen other things, there was an ever present frown on his face, which only grew as time went on. Tucker shifted uncomfortably. "So, do you know what's going on with him?" He asked, trying to see what Vlad was currently reading and failing- the words were small, pixelated, and too far away for him too read. Vlad glanced back at him. His face was carefully neutral, but his eyes betrayed the pain he felt.

"Are you _sure_ that this is Daniel's ectoplasm?" Vlad asked. Tucker frowned.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Dude, do you think I'd bring it if I wasn't? Um, sir?" He said. Vlad closed his eyes, leaning back slightly on the counters and equipment behind him, sighing.

"And Danny destroyed the ghost that attacked him?"

Vlad had made Tucker retell what had happened to Danny when they'd first travelled down into the lab. From what Danny had said, it wasn't as cut and dry as Vlad made it sound, but… Well, it didn't really matter.

"Yeah. He... crushed her core." Tucker winced at the reminder. That was surely one of the things that was affecting Danny the most, aside from his lack of ability to shift. Vlad nodded, looking almost _pleased._

"Good. I won't have to track her down." Vlad muttered darkly. "Though I would have liked to do it myself…"

"But… what's _wrong_ with him?" Tucker demanded. "What _happened?_"

"...He's become a full ghost. His human half died, since _you_," Vlad's eyes flared red for a moment, "and your _friends_ couldn't help him."

There was a bitter anger in Vlad's voice, directed at Tucker. Behind that, there was... _loss._ Sadness. There was something deeper, something more. Loneliness. _Despair._ If Vlad, and Tucker himself, were right… Vlad was the only Halfa once again. There was Danielle, but… she was a clone, and Tucker had a feeling that if she and Vlad were in the same place, it wouldn't go so well. Not that Danny and Vlad had a great relationship either…

"Are… are you sure?" Tucker asked. "Is there anything else it could be?"

Vlad glared, but looked back to his tests.

"...No. Well, he's either dead, or you have an extremely well crafted copy."

Tucker paled. "That's possible?"

"It's unlikely, but if done right... Very few ghosts could create one, and it takes time and care, but… it is possible." Vlad shook his head. "But then, there's the _why._ No ghost that could manage this pays much attention to the world anymore, and as far as I know, most are completely dormant. On top of that, why create a clone that's a full ghost? To make a copy they would need to gather a lot of information and samples from their target… If they didn't want to be found out, they would have made their copy half ghost, to match the original..."

Vlad sighed, closing his eyes.

"It's far more likely that he died."

* * *

Tucker stepped into his house, dazed. A thousand thoughts swirled through his head. Part of him was surprised Vlad had let him go, but the rest of him was just tired. After Vlad confirmed the whole 'dead' thing, he'd requested any specifics Tucker knew about Alkadih, and Tucker had given them. He didn't know much, just that she was after someone (Tucker hadn't told him who), that she worked for an unknown group, her name and her appearance. Not too much to go off of, and Vlad hadn't seemed to know anything more than Tucker did.

After that… he'd just called his creepy butler and had him escort Tucker out.

Tucker couldn't really remember the trip back to his house. He'd been… preoccupied by what he'd learned. How was he going to tell everyone? Not just about the certainty that Danny had died, but how he'd found out as well…

He was _not_ looking forward to the angry, disappointed, left-out combo Sam was going to give him. She'd probably throw in side of knuckle sandwich, along with her favorite sauce- the silent treatment. Jazz was going to be worried, and probably mad. Danny…

Tucker didn't even know how Danny would react. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

With a sigh, he started up the steps to the second floor, sending a quick text to the others telling them he had something important to tell them all, and headed to his- temporarily Danny's-room. He stopped outside the door, knocking softly. He waited for a moment, but he didn't get an answer. He frowned, knocking a bit louder this time. There was no response, save for a stale silence.

Cold fear washed over him, before he shoved it away. Danny could just be asleep. That was it. It had to be. Slowly, quietly, he opened the door and peeked inside. The bed had empty. Dang it.

Tucker stepped into the room, looking around. No Danny. After a moment, he thought that maybe, _maybe,_ Danny was just in the bathroom, but… if he was dead, then... that wouldn't really be necessary? Right?

Maybe a ghost attacked. Maybe it was Alkadih's employers, come for revenge. Or maybe Vlad took him. His thoughts spiraled downwards, suggesting wilder and wilder ideas. His breathing began to waver, his heart growing louder with every beat.

And then he spotted the note. He scanned it quickly, and ice flowed through his veins. Danny was in the Ghost Zone. Alone. Injured. Heading for Clockwork, who was past enemies galore. The note fell from his limp fingers. Just then, there was a knock on the door, the sound echoing up the stairs. Man, Jazz and Sam were _fast_ when they wanted to be.

Well, now he had even more to explain himself for. He groaned softly, but began his way down to the door.

"Fate," he muttered, rubbing his head, "why do you hate me?"

* * *

Danny wavered, the ground spinning beneath him. Was it really, or was that in his head? Just about anything could happen in the Ghost Zone… Regardless, it took everything he had to just keep himself standing. He swallowed thickly, staring up at Clockwork.

"S-so, I really am…?" He couldn't say the rest. Clockwork nodded.

"Your human half died after your battle," He said softly. "Leaving you a full fledged ghost."

Denial rose fast in his core, but… he didn't have any way to deny it. There was nothing but evidence supporting Clockwork's words. Besides, Clockwork wouldn't lie. But… he had _watched._ And he had done _nothing._ Anger, as foolish as it was, rushed to strengthen him.

"Why didn't you… why didn't you do anything? Why didn't you _help_ me? You just- just… You _watched!_ You said so yourself! Why would you- how could you just _let_ me- …why… why did you let me _die?_" Danny's voice went from a shout to a broken whisper in a moment, tears trailing down his cheeks. Clockwork seemed even more frail, even more weak and weighed down than before.

"I couldn't," He said quietly. "Anything I do to interfere risks the timeline. When you fought Pariah, I wanted to help you. You were so hurt, so _close_ to dying," his hands clenched into fists for a moment, before relaxing again, "but I knew it would work out. I knew you would be fine, at least in the end. So I never stepped in to assist.

"When you fought your evil self, I knew you _did_ need help. There were so many branches to that point in the timeline, most ending with your evil self winning. The ones that didn't… they involved my interference," He sighed, putting a hand on Danny's shoulder. For a second, Danny wanted to shrug the hand off or slap it away, but then he saw Clockwork's face. _Broken_ was the only word he could use to describe it. The anger suddenly bled from Danny's core, leaving him weak. It was as if the floor was somehow drawing him towards it, trying to pull him down.

"While you died, I watched. You can't begin to understand how much I wished to stop it," He paused for a moment, before continuing. "However, you didn't need me. Interfering would only splinter the timeline when it wasn't necessary. With your evil self, the path you would have taken would lead to the destruction of both worlds. The fact that that outcome won't ever come to pass is the only reason the Observants aren't coming after the both of us to rectify it.

"This, even with how much we both may have wished to avoid it, wasn't an event that required interference. While there are dangerous paths you may take the world down, there are just as many that work out for everyone. You didn't _need_ me," He removed his hand from Danny's shoulder, turning to look into his window with a distant expression on his face. "I watched because it was the closest I could be to being by your side. I'm not supposed to do anything that could interfere. My making exceptions for you often causes more trouble than necessary.

"But leaving you alone with no-one to be by your side… leaving you alone while you died again… Well, watching was always the thing I did best."

Danny looked away. Yeah, that was all great, but… it didn't change what happened. But even just _trying_ to stay angry at Clockwork was difficult. He felt... numb. What was he supposed to do now? Something clicked inside him. It was a change in topic, but… well, Clockwork brought it up first.

"...If my human side is _really_ gone, then why aren't I... like _he_ was?"

Clockwork would know what he meant. He always did. The ghost, now in his more childish form, turned back to face him, looking surprised. Clockwork wasn't _always_ looking into the future, and small details often slipped past. He didn't always know _everything._ It was possible to surprise even him. Apparently, the question, for whatever reason, hadn't been expected. He paused for a moment, reading Danny's face before beginning.

"Your future self was different. His humanity was torn free from him, leaving behind only the bare basics. You," he gestured to Danny, "aren't the same. Your two halves were still connected. Upon your death, instead of leaving you with _no_ humanity, it melded into your pre-existing ghost half. Another reason, is because he merged with Plasmius, creating something new. You have not."

He… he supposed that made sense, in a way. Still, his legs felt weak. He sat on the ground, dizzy. This was one of the worst outcomes, wasn't it? If it were a curse, or a temporary thing, he could've gone back to his normal life, after a while, at least. With this, even given time, it would never go away. At least the whole 'destroy the world' thing wasn't happening. But… Clockwork did say that there could be some other disastrous paths he could go down…

The wisp, apparently bored with Danny's stillness, jumped out of his hair with a chirp. It darted over to Clockwork, who cupped it in one hand. He frowned, recognition and… something else flashing across his face. His form shifted to middle-aged, and he looked down at Danny, handing the wisp back to him. Danny took it, smiling weakly as it chirped and flew around his hands. Though really just a ball of light, its glow warped into a long tail, wrapping around his fingers.

"I can't tell you what you should do," Clockwork said, watching the wisps movements carefully, "there isn't really a _'should'_ to be spoken of. However… be careful with that wisp. It doesn't look like much, but it carries a lot more influence to all this than it appears."

Danny blinked, looking down at the wisp. It seemed normal. Harmless. But if _Clockwork_ was warning him, then something was wrong.

"Why?" He asked. "What is it about this one that makes a difference?"

Clockwork shook his head.

"It isn't only the one you hold in your hands. In fact, most wisps are far more important than anyone knows. Be careful around them. Ever since your encounter with Alkadih, they have been agitated. You've angered a powerful group, Daniel."

Danny froze, staring at the wisp.

"You mean, it has a connection to the ghosts that sent Alkadih to Amity?" He asked. Clockwork nodded. A spark of anger managed to burst to life in his core, but then… it was hard to see the wisp as anything but harmless. "Can you… tell me more? About what I should watch for, or who they are?"

"I can't tell you too much about that. However... you'll be meeting one of them soon."

Danny blinked.

"Are you sure?" He trusted Clockwork, but he had to ask anyway. There were so many outcomes, so many timelines that Clockwork could see at any given time. Danny _needed_ to be sure.

"Yes. This encounter, in some form, happens in every timeline."


	7. Chapter 7

"You're _really_ determined to stay, aren't you?" Danny asked, looking down at the wisp. He'd tried to get it to leave, but it was insistent. Currently, it had wrapped itself around his wrist. It was a little unnerving, how he felt like it was watching him. Wisps didn't even have eyes, and yet it felt like its gaze was burning into him. It let out a forlorn little hum, wrapping itself even tighter around his arm.

It didn't exactly feel solid, like someone holding onto you. It was more like… a _liquid_, but you couldn't go through it. You could tell that it should give, that you should just pass right on through, but you just _couldn't_. Like mist and water mixed with a brick wall. He sighed, considering his options. After what Clockwork had told him, he was hesitant to bring the wisp with him any farther. He'd wanted to drop it off where he'd found it, but it seemed to be against the idea.

"Fine," He told it. "You can stay. But _only_ until the portal, okay?"

There couldn't be harm in that, right? It's not like the ghosts didn't already know where the portal was. There wasn't any risk. Probably.

The wisp chirped softly, relaxing. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed strange. Why did it want to stay with him so much? It was odd behavior for a wisp. Usually they lost interest quickly, coming and going with no warning. Sure, he'd fed it, but he had done the same for others before and none of them decided to stick around. Besides, it had been interested in him even before that, right after his ghost sense… Danny paused.

Wisps didn't draw much of his attention. Even his ghost sense was weak to them; They didn't really have any power, they weren't sentient, and the amount of harm they could do was limited to being a general pest. If anything, his ghost sense came out in a little puff of smoke. But when he'd been _here_, his ghost sense came full force. Like there _was_ a ghost- a _powerful_ one- and… and it was using the wisp to get him to relax. To drop his guard. He'd _thought_ there was someone there, at the beginning, and he'd looked around for them, and… they had distracted him with a wisp.

He was an _idiot._ That was only a theory, but if there was even a _chance_ it was true...

Danny glanced around the area, increasing his pace as anxiety began to drive him forwards. The sooner he left the Ghost Zone, the better.

* * *

It didn't take long for him to reach the swirling green glow rift of the portal. Relief washed over him as he approached it, softening his fear into a dull worry. Danny paused a few feet away from the portal, reaching up into his hair and gently pulled the wisp from its perch on his head. Why did it like sitting up there anyway?

It let out a small chirp, zipping up out of his hands to nuzzle his face. He sighed, but couldn't help a small smile. It fell quickly, curling into a soft frown.

If the wisp was connected to Alkadih then… but they were practically _dogs!_ He couldn't blame a puppy for being owned by bad people. It would be _stupid_ to try to blame them for that. But still… Clockwork had told him to be careful. Though, what if he needed to treat it kindly? What if that was the warning? Or, what if he needed to avoid it? Or- …Well, it could mean any number of things. There was no way he'd be able to figure it out.

"Alright," He told it, speaking slowly in an attempt to get it to understand. "I've gotta go now. You can't come, so…"

He gently pushed it away, floating backwards away from it. It hovered in the air for a moment, humming, before drifting back to him. He pushed it away again, wincing as it let out a high pitched keen which faded into an almost musical whine.

"Why do you want to stay so bad?" He muttered to himself. Maybe he _could_ just take it with him? It might just follow him anyway. And Clockwork hadn't said it was _bad,_ just to be careful. He took it in one hand, shushing it. "Okay, okay, fine. Just calm-"

A wave of blue smoke hissed out from between his lips, curling in the air as the wisp grew excited in his hands. Danny's eyes went wide and he spun around, quickly spotting the ghost against the green of the Ghost Zone. He was floating a respectful distance away, and Danny paused as he made out the details in the ghosts appearance. He'd never even _heard_ of a ghost like this before…

His eyes were a milky yellow-green, and it looked almost like he was crying, but something was _wrong_ with the image. From his left eye dripped a sickly, off-white substance that trailed down his face in an oozing waterfall. His right eye was similar, but it was filled with a thick, black goo. Between the lines of the stuff Danny could see thin _grooves_ in his cheeks, like the ghosts face had been worn away from the constant fall of off-color tears.

Short horns protruded from his forehead in a row, and across where his collarbone would be. Something that looked suspiciously like wood wrapped, or _grew,_ around his neck and twisted around the spikes on his shoulders and chest, and curling around his arms. Black, obsidian-like spikes wrapped around his chest like ribs, and protruded from just below his elbow, running down the length of his arms.

Danny snapped out of his shock, quickly slipping into a defensive stance, watching the ghost warily. The wisp chirped and, despite Danny's instinctual attempt to stop it, flew to the stranger, joining several other wisps that flew around his head.

"Who are you?" Danny demanded, a cold wave of dread washing through him. Everything was adding up to an answer that he didn't want to hear. The wisps being connected to Alkadih, Clockwork's warning that he'd meet one of the other members of the group… Was this one of them, then? Why was he _here?_ What did he _want?_

"I'm nothing of consequence," The ghost said, tilting his head as he cupped the wisp that had followed Danny in his hand. He peered down at it, and as Danny looked closer he realized that the ghost didn't actually have a mouth. Instead, he had three dents in his face where a mouth _should_ be. As Danny watched, the strange ghost whistled, though _how_ was beyond him, and the wisp chirped a short pattern in response. The ghost blinked, a cascade of false tears washing down his face. "Really? Clockwork?"

Danny froze. Had… had the ghost just _spoken_ to the wisp? The ghost looked up at Danny, head tilted as if considering him. A mass of energy began to grow in his free hand, and something about it seemed… _wrong._ Sickly. _Dangerous._ Danny tensed, preparing for a fight, but the ghost simply allowed the wisp to feed off of the energy he had amassed, just as Danny had when it'd first ran into him. It chirped and hummed excitedly, jumping up and flying around again with the others when it had absorbed the last of the semi-formed ecto-blast.

"Who _are_ you?" Danny tried again. "_Answer_ me!"

The ghost hummed, earning a chorus of responses from his wisps, and flew forward slowly. Everything inside Danny was telling him to _run,_ but he held his ground. The ghost stopped just a few paces away.

"You can call me Mors," He said. Danny shivered. His voice was… _strange._ He couldn't quite place the tone. He couldn't read his face either, the emotion and intent Danny usually saw in ghosts just… _gone._ What was this guys deal?

"What's going on? How are you communicating with them?" Danny gestured to the wisps. Mors blinked slowly, again causing another flood of tears. They fell from his face, dissolving into the air. "What do you _want?_"

"The wisps…" He murmured, cupping one of them his his hands gently. It wasn't the one that had been with Danny. This one was bigger, about the size of Danny's fist, and was tinted slightly blue. "People are right about them. They're little more than animals. But animals can be trained."

"And you understand them?" _How was that possible?_ Danny had never heard of something like this.

Mors hummed, tilting his head. He seemed to be debating with himself.

"Yes. For the most part, we understand each other. I've taught them some words, to make it easier. Names. Like… Clockwork," He tilted his head to the other side, eyes narrowed. "And yours."

"Why have them follow me? What do you _want?_"

Mors hummed softly. The wisps didn't respond, so… What was the difference between the humming? The whistles? Danny couldn't find anything to differentiate between what was communication and what was just simple sound.

"...It's more what others want," Mors said. "They wanted to know how aggressive you were. Where you landed on the scale." Mors shook his head slowly, as if he found the idea stupid. "They want to know if they can ignore you, or if they can use you, or if you should be... taken care of. They told me to come to you- to _talk_ to you. So, here I am."

"If you were going to… to do _this,_ why send wisp out at first? Why _spy_ on me?"

"_They_ wanted this," Mors swept both hands out, making it clear that he meant the situation they were in. The conversation. "_I_ want to know who you are when you don't pretend for anyone. Whether it's me, your city, friends or enemies, you change yourself. I would have watched you personally, but… you are very good at picking out spies. I'm sorry to say that I didn't expect that from you. Wisps work well; After all, why change for them? Most would kick them aside without a thought. ...It likes you. That tells me something, though not as much as I'd like. It can tell me small, simple things… nothing in depth."

There was something else Danny had to know, but could he even trust the answers Mors gave him? It didn't really matter, did it? As long as Mors was talking, Danny could learn. Even if it was all lies, at least he had a place to start.

"You, and these people you're talking about… you're the ones that sent Alkadih, aren't you?" He was sure they were, but this was part of a larger confrontation. A bigger question. He needed to hear it _all,_ the whole confession. Mors tilted his head back, humming softly. What was with him and _humming?_ The sound was started to grate on Danny's nerves.

"I suppose they _could_ be. The people I work for… Well," He shrugged, head rolling to the side limply. The liquids trailing from his eyes always shifted with his movement, but it was so slow that it didn't respond in the way Danny thought it should. "They don't involve me much. I don't know all the puppets they have on stage. _Alkadih..._" He sounded the name out, rolling the syllables around. It was normal enough, but combined with the lack of a mouth it seemed _off._ "Yes… That was one of them, I believe. I remember her."

"If you didn't even know, then why would the wisps be so upset?" Other questions moved to the back of his mind at the inconsistency. Clockwork said the wisps had been agitated. Unless they have another, more involved ghost who controlled, or trained, wisps, then Mors had to be lying about _something,_ right?

"I'm not the wisps. I don't read their thoughts, and not even half of them know me. Though…" He blinked, looking at Danny with sudden interest. "Did you actually _destroy_ her?"

"I- _what?_" Danny blinked, trying to realign his thoughts. It sounded as if Mors knew, but wanted clarification. What was up with this? It was like Mors didn't even know as much as _Danny_ did. Still… the main group already knew. Better to accept it than hide from it. According to Jazz, at least. He nodded slowly, and Mors leaned back slightly.

"Hmm… that explains their interest in you, doesn't it?" Mors shrugged. "Ah, well. Alkadih routinely spent time feeding them. It's like a stray dog when the one person giving them attention disappears. They'll be upset for days, waiting for her to come back."

Guilt flooded him, followed by anger. This wouldn't have ever happened if these _stupid ghosts_ had left Amity alone! If they'd left _Valerie_ alone. And just like that, his questions- _and protectiveness, possessiveness, rage_\- all returned.

"_Why?_" He asked, voice trembling. He couldn't tell if it was from anger or sadness or something else entirely. "Why did they send her to kill my friend? Why couldn't they leave us all _alone?!_"

"Kill a friend?" If Mors had a mouth, Danny got the impression he'd be frowning. He looked at one of the wisps flying around his head, scowling slightly. "They don't tell me _anything,_ do they?" He didn't get a response. Mors looked back to Danny, something akin to irritation dancing in his eyes. "Care to be more specific?"

"_Valerie_," Danny growled, suddenly unable to keep his anger at bay. "They sent Alkadih to **_kill_** Valerie. _Why?_"

"Val-" Mors cut himself off, narrowing his eyes. He looked lost for a moment, before something seemed to click. "She's… the Red Huntress, yes?"

Danny nodded stiffly. What did _Mors_ have to do with _Valerie?_ How did he know her?

"Mmm… They probably don't want you involved until they decide what to do with you, including you having any more knowledge than you do already…" Mors shrugged lightly, as if casting off the concern. "But you can keep a secret, right? Valerie… she's been chipping away at them for months now. Small things, but she's become an annoyance to them. She harasses their members, the ones out in the open, and routinely stops any kind of mission they try to finish. ...They had me gather some information on her a month back, actually… I sent a wisp her way, as I did you, just to gauge her reaction." His eyes narrowed. "She _killed_ it. It didn't do anything but approach."

Danny was about to demand _more,_ perhaps even try to force Mors to take him to whoever these ghosts were, when something burst from the portal behind him. He flew to the side with a shriek, not wanting to be sandwiched between whatever it was and Mors. Energy crackled between his fingers, but faded when he saw what it was. The Specter Speeder. The door slid open, and his friends poked their heads out, surprise written across their faces. In Sam's case, the shock bled away into anger.

"Danny," Sam growled, "you are in _big_ trouble. Get into the speeder. _Now_."

"Are you okay?" Jazz called, worry filling her voice. "What were you doing just floating in front of the portal like that?"

Danny jumped, thoughts snapping back to what had happened before they showed up. He spun around, looking around for Mors, but he wasn't there. There was nothing but endless, spiraling green all around them. Mors was gone, and the wisps along with him.

* * *

"So… I went to Vlad for no reason?" Tucker groaned. "It was almost hospital levels of bad, and I didn't even have to go?"

Sam glared at him, but nothing else. That was for the best. Tucker's shoulder was probably going to bruise pretty bad as it was from her earlier punch. Danny nodded, a bit upset that Tucker would do that without consulting anyone, but what right did _he_ have to complain? Besides, Sam had the whole angry thing covered already.

"I guess. Clockwork got me all caught up with being... _dead."_ He said quietly, the last word catching in his throat. The others looked at him with varying degrees of sympathy, all gathered together on Tucker's (or, _Danny's?_) bed. "Guys, don't… look so _sad?_ Please? I'll… I'll be okay, just… _don't_ look at me like that."

They all hesitated for a moment. Sam composed herself first.

"So... this Mors guy," She said, and he was grateful for the topic change. "He's spying on you for Valerie's hate club?"

Danny nodded, before pausing.

"One, they need a name change," That got a smile from Tucker and Sam both, while Jazz remained looking… hollow. She'd fussed over him for the entire trip here, but had since shut down. Worry rose in his chest, but he couldn't quite bring himself to address it yet. He focused on what he had been saying, pushing his concern away for now. "Two, he kinda seemed… indifferent? Sure, he was spying for them, and I'm sure he's on their side, but… it was like he barely knew _anything_ about them. And yes, Sam, I _know_ he could be pretending, but… it didn't feel like that. It was like he wasn't even a real member, just knew a few basics and had a grudge against Valerie."

"Because of the wisp she killed?" Tucker asked, head tilting to the side. The action reminded Danny of Mors, anger stirring in his chest at the thought. It didn't help that they were already talking about him either... "You talk about them like they're just mindless, floating fairy lights."

Danny winced at the reminder.

"Well, that was _before._ I barely even _saw_ wisps before today, I just knew stuff from other ghosts!" And _why_ they all hated the wisps was beyond him. Did they know about Mors? But they'd never mentioned _spies,_ they just said wisps were annoying. "I think it's more like… she killed his dog. Or his friend. His friend who's a dog?"

Sam ground her teeth together. She _also_ had some grudges against Valerie. Killing, as far as it seemed Valerie could have known, a dog, or heck, even _just_ a mindless fairy light, was _not_ something that would make Sam forgive all that.

"Anyway," Danny continued, "I don't like him, and I don't even trust him as much as I trust _Vlad,_ but… I think there's more than what we know going on. Though, Clockwork did say I'd meet someone from the group… I don't know, he acted more like he was just someone they occasionally went to for help. He even went against the whole 'don't let Danny know anything' rule that they've got everyone following."

Sam shook her head.

"Y'know, the fact that he _seems_ to be mostly unaligned could be a sign _not_ to trust him," She said. "Sometimes people like that… they could betray anyone at the drop of a hat, or sometimes it's an act… he could be the one that you _really_ don't want to run into."

Danny nodded.

"He probably is. I was just saying that he seemed _off,_ not that he was a possible _ally_."

"You can _say_ that, but you _both_," She turned her gaze on Tucker, "have shown some really bad ideas of what _can_ and _cannot_ be trusted."

Tucker shrunk back, casting his eyes to the floor. Danny felt a surge of anger. Yes, Tucker made some ill-advised choices, on several occasions, but he was still Danny's _friend_. Tucker was good, and belonged with the group_(belonged to Danny)_. Sam did too, but that didn't give her the right to be so mean. She'd driven her point home enough already. He could feel his core pulse with energy, his eyes beginning to glow brighter.

He shoved that impulse away, shaking his head to clear it. Just how bad would those thoughts get? Tucker and Sam and Jazz… they were his _friends_, sure, but he didn't _own_ them. They were their own people. They weren't possessions. No-one was. _(He wasn't sure if he entirely agreed with that anymore.)_

"Danny?" Jazz asked softly. He jumped, turning to her. "You okay?"

He nodded quickly and she frowned. He could tell she saw through him, but she thankfully didn't push.

"Alright," He said, breaking the silence. He needed a new topic. A new distraction. "How's Valerie doing?"

They continued like that, jumping between topics over and over again, and Sam eventually warmed up, shooting Tucker an apologetic half smile. After that, everything began to smooth out. Until…

"How's mom and dad?" Everyone went quiet. Danny's blood ran cold. What had happened? What was wrong?

"...They're scared," Jazz murmured. "You went missing and they don't know what to do. It's only been three days, and they didn't… didn't _notice_ for one. That's still two days missing, and for mom and dad? They don't know what to do. Half their attention is on ghosts, because, '_who else_ would take the son of_ ghost hunters?_' The rest of it is on getting everyone else to help find you.

"They're both _terrified,_ but they won't show it. It's just building up, and it's all going to fall apart. _Soon,_ I think," She sighed, looking away. "Danny, maybe... maybe it would be for the best if you just told them?"

"_No_," The refusal came fast, the word slipping out before he could stop it. Still, he was sticking to that decision. "I can't just… just _tell_ them. They'd _never_ believe me. Even if they did, who _knows_ what would happen. It could be _worse_ than this. Right?"

They all glanced at each other, unsure. Each of them seemed a bit skeptical of the horrors that he was implying. Danny couldn't help his worry though. Yeah, they'd accepted him in alternate timelines, but… _This_ timeline was different. Without evidence, heck, even _with_ evidence, the chances of them believing him right away… they were _low_. And even _if_ he could somehow convince them with his only proof being the fact that he had started skipping class and Jazz's word… it could still end badly in _this_ timeline.

No. He needed to fix all of this, but… he _couldn't_ tell his parents. At this point... he'd probably _never_ tell them.

* * *

Mors slipped through a dark purple door, hidden deep inside the Ghost Zone. Few ghosts continued to roam this area, but the ones that did tended to be powerful. The fact that he had yet to run into any of them despite his frequent trips to this lair could mean several things. Either he was skilled, lucky, or his boss had enough of a reputation that everyone else avoided it.

The fact that he still wasn't sure which it was bothered him, the information just slightly out of his reach.

Six wisps followed him through the doorway, each begging for attention. He whistled; a low, buzzing sound that rose into a quick, sharp keen. They chirped and buzzed in response, whining and grumbling, but then went quiet. Sometimes it was difficult to do his work with the little alarm bells hovering around his head, but he didn't really mind. Perhaps he'd been too harsh…

He hummed, considering, before whistling again. A short, sweet sound, bordering on mournful. He hoped that would be a suitable apology… The wisps danced and spun in response, chiming and twittering. Ah. He'd been forgiven.

It was always a bit... _difficult,_ getting a point across. They barely understood most things, but it always worked out in the end. They could understand people when they spoke in their own languages; At least, they understood things like 'wisp', 'get out', and 'ghost', simple repeated things like that, but he'd found that they responded best to the whistles and chirps that they themselves used. Multiple languages were difficult, after all.

He'd assigned the most important players, such his superiors, Clockwork, Plasmius, and Phantom, a 'name'- really just combinations of sounds- and they could understand orders such as 'stay', 'come', or 'follow' (when paired with visuals or a name they'd stick with that person until he called them back), but anything beyond that… Well, they were simple creatures. Still, they were beyond useful.

"Mors, you're back," A voice cut into his musings, quiet and rasping. Ah. His boss was already here, then. Or, perhaps, she had never left. She had concealed herself again, hiding so deep in the shadows that the only thing visible were her eyes; light, icy blue pinpricks of light in the darkness of the room. "Report."

"Phantom is angry." He stated. He was still a bit… _annoyed_ that they had withheld information from him (_again_), but complaining wouldn't do any good. He'd learned that _years_ ago. "The Huntress, Valerie, is one of his… _friends._ If you called off anymore strikes on her, I'm sure that would help his mood."

A soft growl filled the quiet room, those cold eyes narrowing. The Huntress had made _many_ enemies within the Zone, and the ghosts that made up this group were no exception. Though his boss wasn't the head of the group, she was tightly knit within it- enough so that every action the Red Huntress took was almost like a personal blow.

"Though," Mors continued, tilting his head. "That would be if you wanted to _use_ him. If you'd rather kill him, I suppose it wouldn't matter much. Just don't ignore him, that's the worst you could do if you're going after his friends. From what I've gathered, he's rather attached to his town's inhabitants.

"He's close allies with Clockwork, which I knew. He's recently undergone complete death- you have your other puppet to thank for that- and he is acquainted with, but not allies with, Plasmius. He's only been sighted for a year or so, but his human half is, or _was,_ the child of hunters. They are extremely distraught at his apparent disappearance, but aren't much of a threat. He has very few friends in the Zone, and even Humans seemed to prefer Phantom to his human guise. He isn't the brightest, he was failing every class, but that could simply be a result of his other responsibilities interfer-"

"Why is this important? You were told to bring back _useful_ information. Things of _current_ relevance. Not… _this._ Grades and the preferences of others don't matter," The voice snapped. Or, well, it was more of an insistent whisper, but it was the same thing when she was concerned. He let out a quiet breath, too weak to even be called a sigh. No one really understood, did they?

"What?" Mors asked, letting his head tilt back. He stared up at the ceiling and hummed softly. Not communication with the wisps this time- just a simple sound. "You wanted information, and I'm getting it. Even a little fact can be useful, if used right. ...After all, the _smallest_ things can be the most _deadly_.


	8. Chapter 8

How could it be so _quiet?_ Danny sat in his temporary room (and as time went on, it was getting harder and harder to think of this as temporary, though he knew he only had a few more days here), just waiting. He wasn't tired, in fact, he hadn't felt like he needed sleep in days. He'd been worn out, and drained of energy for sure. But… he wasn't _tired_. Well, not in a lack of sleep kind of way, at least. It was actually kind of nice. He spent so much time dead on his feet, so to have that be lessened, even just a bit, was one of the only good things that came of all this.

But it also came with a problem. Now that his injuries were finally healed, his core was no longer wasting power to heal them. And that meant that he wasn't really tired in _any_ sense of the word. Sleep was hard to come by, and he wasn't really sure if it would do him much good anyway. To add on to the problem, he'd been under house arrest ever since he'd come back from the Ghost Zone. And _that_ was just plain _stupid._

He was getting _sick_ of being inside, watching the same walls. Sitting there. Doing nothing. He just wanted to go out and… well. He didn't really know _what_ he'd do, but he needed to do _something. **Anything.**_ Fighting ghosts would be a blast. Just flying, without needing to worry about reopening his wounds? That would be amazing. So what was stopping him?

He… he didn't really want to worry anyone. They had been the ones to ban him from leaving, and while he was pretty sure that was over now… it just didn't feel _right,_ leaving without a reason. Part of him, deep down, said his own desires were reason enough. But… were they really? It seemed _selfish,_ but…

He couldn't stand being trapped here.

It was late. He should at least wait until morning, right? Let them know he was leaving before he did, to avoid the panic that they'd be sure to fall into? Unless… he was gone and back before they noticed? It _was_ the middle of the night, after all. The only one who _could_ notice was Tucker, and he was asleep. A wave of dread washed over him as he remembered that Tucker's parents would come back from their trip soon. When that happened… where would Danny go? Where would he stay? There was nowhere else for him. Sam's place would have been fine, but there was no way he'd be able to hide there. He couldn't stay here, he couldn't go home, he couldn't stay with Sam. What was he going to do...?

He slipped off the bed, pacing throughout the room. His core buzzed with restless energy, pushing him to do something. _Anything_ that wasn't _sitting here._

"C'mon," he muttered. "Just calm down, go to sleep or some-"

Blue smoke poured from his lips, cutting him off. He jumped, freezing.

"Really? _Now?_" Danny snapped, then paused, considering. This _did_ give him an excuse to leave. He quickly grabbed his thermos and rushed to the window. Looking back, he hesitated for only a second, before he jumped through the wall. The cool night air was a sharp contrast to the warmth that filled the house, and oddly enough, Danny found that he preferred it. He flew up, far above the street below, excitement buzzing in his chest. After days locked away inside, it felt _amazing_ to be out here. The wind on his face, the fresh air, and the view… His city, his home, it was _wonderful,_ especially when seen from above. He forced himself to look for any sign of a ghost, focusing back to the matter at hand. And there, turning around a corner, was a flash of blue and grey. He grinned and flew after it.

The shouting started just before he turned the corner, more of anger and annoyance than real fear. And then he saw why. It was only the Box Ghost. Various boxes swirled around him, and several people were peeking their heads out of their windows, apparently having been woken just moments ago. There was a loud crashing sound, before another box joined the ones swirling around his head. It had broken through a window, and a few more people looked outside from the house, tired and annoyed.

It seemed no one was frightened by the ghosts presence, which was one thing that Danny didn't think would ever change. Still, he was causing trouble, and was a perfect outlet. Danny winced. He really had to stop thinking of the Box Ghost as a punching bag.

"Fear me!" The short ghost shouted, the people not even flinching as he did. The ghost growled, and the contents of the boxes exploded out of their containers, a few of the objects even managing to harmlessly bounce off of some more windows. "You will all soon know the… uh. Terror! That I have mastered! Beware!"

_'On the other hand,_' Danny thought, '_He's **really** annoying…'_

"Hey!" Danny shouted, and the Box Ghost spun around to face him. "I've got to hand it to you. That performance actually woke people up instead of putting them to sleep like you usually do."

A cardboard box bounced harmlessly off his chest. He raised an eyebrow at the scowling ghost before him.

"That was just my opening act!" He shouted, and even more boxes flew from the homes around them. "You will-"

"Yeah, yeah," Danny interrupted him, "I'll fear you, you'll win this time, beware and all that. Are you actually going to fight, or are you all talk?"

The next minute was a blur, flying after a fleeing enemy, dodging blows in the form of scavenged boxes and their contents… He hoped none of that was important, and if it was, that it wasn't fragile.

The fight dragged on longer than necessary. Danny wanted this to last, this freedom, the exhilaration of the flight, the fight, and the chase. The dark of the night was broken by green beams of ecto-energy as he fired at the Box Ghost. He'd gotten better at dodging, Danny had to admit that. So, the ghost wasn't _entirely_ hopeless after all. He _could_ improve, just not very much.

Still, the fight ended with Danny's unsurprising victory. He landed a good hit, before rushing in and trapping the ghost inside the thermos, ignoring his final yells about vengeance and the like. It was all so _predictable,_ at least when the Box Ghost was concerned. Though it was a nice distraction, it had done little to ease the restlessness he felt. There had been no questions about this outcome. No real stakes, and little to no effort. Danny sighed, resigning himself to a subdued flight to Fenton Works before releasing the Box Ghost back into the Zone.

He sighed again, rising into the air and started heading in the direction of home. His core ached at the word. _Home._ He wished he could go and just stay there, in his room, with his family. But no. There was no way he could stay. If they even caught sight of him, they'd shoot before he could explain anything.

He closed his eyes, trying to block the thoughts out. He needed another distraction. Something to do. He needed- smoke slipped past his lips. He froze.

"You let that fight drag on longer than necessary. Why?"

That voice… Danny spun around, eyes widening. Mors was floating a few feet away, only three wisps with him this time. His head was tilted slightly, and his eyes… the emotion behind them seemed sincere enough. Had he really revealed himself out of _curiosity?_ Or, was there something else? ...He couldn't really tell.

Danny didn't want to deal with this right now. He didn't have the patience or desire to. But… it was a distraction. He'd been practically _begging_ the Fates to pull a stunt like this.

"What do you want?" Danny asked, watching the other ghost warily.

"I want to know why you let that ghost roam through your city instead of stopping him immediately. I know you could have," Mors hummed, considering. "That's what_I_ want. _They_ want me to give you a warning."

"And you couldn't have _led_ with that?" He snapped. The ghosts that had ruined everything… they had a _warning_ for him? He bit back his anger. _They_ were the ones who needed a warning. He would come for them, as soon as he could, and he would _tear them apart._ Mors waited, silent. The wisps chirped excitedly around his head, but he didn't respond to them. Danny glared, forcing himself to keep his voice level. "Well? What do they have to say?"

"If you go after them, they'll send ghosts after all of your friends and family," Mors said simply, as if he were talking about the weather. "And they have two options for you."

Danny growled, eyes blazing. They would _dare_ go after his friends? His _family?_ His core pulsed with energy, running down his arms and coating his fingers with frost. He had to hold himself back from attacking Mors, forcing his anger away. ...Would attacking him here count as going after them? Maybe…

"And those options _are?_" He growled, doing his best to stay calm and rational. Plasma still crackled around his hands, light dancing off the ice coating them. Mors tilted his head, examining him, as if trying to figure out why Danny was angry. Honestly, the scrutiny just made him feel worse.

"...You can let them go after Valerie, letting her die," he began. "Or you can get her to make a promise to stop hunting. Forever."

"She'll never agree to that!" Danny protested.

"Hm..." Mors paused, and Danny swore that he'd be frowning if he could. Not the kind of frown Danny would expect; Not a fake, mocking expression of false sympathy or an uncaring grimace. It was just... troubled. Mors was quiet, thinking. Hesitating…? "...You're going to try anyway."

It wasn't a question. Danny slumped, glaring towards the ground far below.

"Yeah, of course. I have to."

"...Why?"

Danny blinked. The question was asked honestly, the same curiosity that Mors shown earlier resurfacing. Like he really didn't understand _why_ Danny would try to protect his friends, or why he was mad about Mors' employers going after them. He paused, eyeing the ghost.

"Because…" Danny hesitated. How could he explain… The wisps chirped, drawing Mors' attention away from him slightly. Bingo. "You care about them?" He asked, motioning to the wisps. Mors eyed him, but nodded slightly. "If you were told to do something, or they'd all die, would you do it?"

The ghost paused, eyes narrowing slightly before his expression relaxed into something calmer.

"...Yes. I suppose I understand, then," Mors said. He hummed softly, drawing a chorus of responses from the wisps as they swirled around him. There was a tense silence for a moment, before Mors dipped his head slightly. "Well then, that's all they wanted from you. Farewell for now, Phantom."

He hovered there for a moment, as if hesitating, before he turned and began to fly away. Danny paused, both relieved that the ghost was leaving and wanting to go after him. He had a lot to think about, and a lot to do. He had to somehow convince Valerie to actually _give_ _up_ ghost hunting, at least for now. He had to find out who these ghosts were without setting them off and sending them against his friends. He had to deal with being dead, protect his friends, find a place to stay, _and_ keep the usual threats to the city away.

He had no leads, no way to find anything out. He had _nothing_ to go off of. ...Except for the ghost flying away from him right now. Mors had to know _something_ that would help. ...But how could Danny convince him to explain it?

He quickly looked back on everything that he knew about Mors, and as he did, an idea slowly began to form in his mind. He barely knew anything- next to nothing, actually, but he did have _something_ to go off of. What had Mors said earlier? That this was all that _they_ had wanted. Mors left himself out of the group, _again._ Was there something else that he could have wanted besides this…? What could- ...Oh.

He could practically _feel_ the lightbulb going off inside his head, and a plan- a profoundly _idiotic_ plan- snapped into place in his mind. Danny could practically hear Sam yelling at him already, but he followed Mors anyway, cursing himself for his stupidity.

"Wait!" He called. Mors slowed slightly, looking back at him as he slowly came to a halt in the air. Danny stopped right beside him, pushing aside all the anxiety he felt at being so close. "Who are they? Please, I _need_ to know."

Mors tilted his head, blinking. He was silent, and Danny could see that he didn't want to give the answer. What was the question Mors had asked when he'd first revealed himself again...?

"I drew out the fight because I needed something to do," Danny said. That seemed to catch Mors off guard. Not the answer, no, but the fact that he had given an answer in the first place. "I was angry, and tired, and restless. Fighting was an outlet, and a distraction. So… I let the fight go longer than was needed."

Mors nodded, humming. There was a light to his eyes, almost like excitement. Danny paused. Was he a spy because he was good at it, or because he just enjoyed learning about people? Maybe it was both. Still, the light was quickly enveloped by the cold mask of disinterest the ghost usually wore. Too late. Danny had seen it, even if it had only been there for a second.

"Do you think that this will get me to tell you what you want to know?" Mors asked. Danny hesitated. It might not get the answer to the question he'd _asked,_ but… maybe it would get him something else.

"No. But you have other questions, right?" He asked. Mors frowned at him, raising an eyebrow, getting the message of 'where are you going with this' across without the words. "Then ask them. And for every question I answer give me a fact. You get to pick what it is, and whether or not it's a lie. Just give me _something_ to work with."

"Hmm," Mors seemed to actually be considering it, so that was good. Maybe this would actually work. "I thought I told you there would be consequences if you went after them."

"You did," Danny agreed, nodding. "But this isn't going after them, is it? It's just getting answers." He said, looking Mors right in the eyes. The ghost didn't look away. After a moment, Danny got the impression that Mors would be smiling if he could. There was a flicker of something, possibly _approval(?),_ in his face.

Mors started to move away, and Danny had just enough time to feel an odd mix of disappointed panic before the ghost paused and motioned for Danny to follow. Their flight was short, just to the roof of a building nearby with a ledge that they could sit on. Mors settled himself on the ledge, sitting cross legged on the concrete. Or, actually, hovering just above it. Danny hesitated, before letting himself plop down two or so feet from the other ghost. It felt weird to sit so calmly with Mors, like they weren't enemies. Like Danny didn't want Mors to leave and never come back.

"Alright," Danny said. "Ask me something."

Mors was silent for a moment, considering. "...What's your opinion on the wisps?"

Danny hadn't been expecting that to be his first question. It felt too simple. It felt like a _trick._ "Um. They're cute, and they remind me of dogs. I've always liked them. Bit upset that they spied on me though."

"Hmm," Mors nodded, and the wisps chirped and chimed in response. Danny waited. Finally, Mors spoke again. "The Box Ghost has no part in their group."

Danny's mind went blank for a moment, processing the ridiculous notion that the Box Ghost could _ever_ be involved in something important and not give it away. He knew that he said the fact could be anything, but he wasn't expecting that to be it.

"Alright," He finally said. "Next question?"

"How did you become a Halfa?" Mors asked. Danny winced. Of all the questions he could have asked… He wasn't even a Halfa anymore! Why did he have to bring it up?

"...I was stupid and messed with stuff I shouldn't have," Danny said, hoping it would be enough though he knew it wouldn't be. Sure enough, Mors just waited for him to continue. Danny let out a sharp breath and kept going. "When my parents built the portal, it didn't work. I went inside it, it turned on, and… it _hurt._ I guess it didn't kill me, but it felt like it would. ...When I woke up, I was a ghost. Took me a while to turn back, but I got the hang of it."

There was silence for a moment, for which Danny was, for once, grateful for. He didn't like talking about the accident- _especially_ to people who had no right to know. He took the few seconds of reprieve to take a deep breath, already steeling himself for the next question.

"Ah…" Mors said softly, breaking the silence. "There are different sections of their group. The highest order has very few members, and only they know every other ghost involved. The lower you go, the less information is open to you."

There was something bitter in Mors' tone, but he continued before Danny could even try to ask about it.

"What is your Obsession?"

Danny blinked, before the weight of that question caught up to him. He froze

"_What?_ You- I-" How did he even respond to that? "Why would I ever tell that to _you?!_"

Obsessions were _important._ They were linked directly to the ghost; what they did, how they acted, what they cared about. It was the source of their strength, but it could also be their greatest weakness.

Mors hummed, gathering ecto-energy in his hand. Danny tensed, ready to run, before the wisps flocked to the light and absorbed it. Just like last time.

"I suppose you're right," Mors said. "I wouldn't pass that information to them, but you are right not to say."

Danny paused. "Why not? You're their spy, right? Why wouldn't you tell them what you know?"

Mors hummed softly. "I thought I was asking the questions?"

Danny bit his lip. He _hated_ this. But before he could get lost in the thoughts, Mors began speaking again.

"...I give them information, yes. I work for them, yes. But I could make an exception for this- at the very least, until you've given reason for me to pass it along. Not that you have any reason to believe that. ...Let me ask you this instead. What happened to the evil version of yourself?"

Danny froze. "You know about that?"

"Not much. Clockwork's realm is not one I tread in lightly. I know that he was here, but that's all."

"Not much to tell. He's gone."

Mors narrowed his eyes. "There's more to it than that. These are your options. Your Obsession, or your evil self."

Danny could see it. Without an answer, Mors would leave. _Why?_ Why _these_ questions? Why the questions he _can't_ answer? But they were the only way. Danny could just leave. He could go and rest. He could go convince Valerie to stop. Or he could stay and try to get a straight answer from Mors.

"_Fine,_" He said. There had been no choice here. Not really. "I'll tell you."

* * *

The explanation was a long one. If he was going to tell the story of his journey to the future, of meeting Clockwork, and the story of his evil self… he was going to tell it _all._ Mors remained quiet, only letting out the occasional hum to break his silence.

Danny told him about the destruction the future world experienced. The ghostly wail being a power he gained as a response to the ghosts attacking him. About meeting the future Vlad, and learning about how it all happened. About the fight he'd had with himself. He told him about Clockwork being the only reason everything had worked out okay. Danny let the words fall in a cascade from his lips, infusing the night air with an otherwise tense, cold quiet that tried to stop the tale then and there.

And finally, he stopped, letting the silence consume him for a moment before it became too much, and he spoke again.

"So that's it. Happy now?" He asked, harsher than he had meant to be. Mors was quiet for a moment.

"I see," Mors said, something strange in his tone. Danny couldn't read what it was, but it seemed important. "...A simple fact isn't enough to repay the whole story. Ask me a question, and I will answer it if I can."

Danny paused, thinking. He wasn't expecting that. He'd hoped for it, but he hadn't really thought he'd get the chance. What could he ask? Who they were? Why Mors worked with them? Would More even answer those questions?

"...Why are they giving me a chance? Why not kill Valerie now, or even just kill _me,_ or someone else? Why are they letting me try to save her?" He finally asked.

"Ah… They don't quite know what to do with you," Mors said. "They haven't decided whether they'd like to use you or throw you aside. You could be their greatest pawn, or the enemy king. The target. You could be the one they need to destroy, or the one that they can use. They want her dead, but they're willing to just keep her out of the way. They mostly just want to see what you'll do. How far you'll go and how well you can do it."

"Wait, so that means…" Danny had to pause for a moment, waiting for the words to sink in. "They want _me_ to be on their team? 'Cause they sure did give a _great_ first impression."

"Maybe. Either that, or they want you dead," Mors stood up, still hovering above the ground and glancing down at him. "...Careful, Phantom. Anything you do could tip the scales in the wrong direction."

And then he was gone.

Danny didn't feel like going back to Tucker's house, or going to Fenton Works. He'd like to talk to Clockwork, but he knew going into the Zone again would be stupid. So he sat, and he thought. He considered everything Mors had said- reconsidered everything that he had told the ghost. He sat, waiting for something, though he didn't know what. He thought, the warnings and answers swirling together in his mind.

He waited, before finally, he stood up.

It was time to talk to Valerie.


	9. Chapter 9

"Maybe I should have waited until morning…?" Danny asked himself, hovering outside Valerie's window. It was the middle of the night, and Danny knew that the other hunter didn't sleep often. With how many times she had joined a fight in the horrid early hours before most were even awake, or at midnight when she should have been resting from the fights before… well, it was clear that she took hunting seriously, allowing sleep to take a backseat to her responsibilities. He was sure that wasn't healthy, but, well, it's what he had done. Maybe he should just let her rest, and talk to her in the morning.

But, then again… Danny wasn't sure how long Mors's offer would last, or how long Valerie could go without angering the group further. If they decided to call this agreement off… Valerie could take care of herself, he knew, but it still worried him. Alkadih had been powerful- heck, she had _killed_ him- and Mors gave Danny the creeps. Who even _knew_ what he could do? And what had Mors called himself and Alkadih? Puppets, pawns, or something similar? If they were as powerful as they seemed only being tools, then what were the others like?

Probably powerful, if they could keep a lot of different ghosts in line. Ghosts _could_ work together, and they had friends, but getting them to work _for_ you? It was usually a difficult task, one that was either accomplished using bribery or force.

He had to talk to her _now,_ before they all changed their minds about letting her go.

"If they weren't _lying_ about that…" he muttered. Still, he took a breath and knocked sharply on the window. He could see something shift in the darkness, and suddenly the window was open, an exhausted Valerie glaring out at him. And there was a gun in his face. Welp. It was nice to see that some things never change.

"Phantom," she greeted. Though, it sounded more like an accusation. He smiled past his nerves, the gun not really doing much to help his anxiety.

"Hey," he said, slowly reaching up and pushing the gun away from his face. She allowed it, holding the gun to the side, still ready to shoot at a moments notice. "I need to talk to you. It's important."

She scoffed. "Talk? _Now?_ I'd sooner shoot my own foot than talk to you."

He paused. Usually she wasn't so… well, she was always _grumpy,_ but… something seemed off. She was angry with him, which was nothing new, but there was something else there as well. Now that he really looked at her, he could see how tired she was. Dark bags under her eyes, messy hair, dull expression… What was going on?

"Are… are you doing okay?" He asked. Valerie glared at him.

"Am I okay?" She repeated, voice raising slightly in pitch and laced with anger, but still quiet. "Am I _okay?_ You don't have the right to even _ask_ me that! Do you even know how difficult it is to live a double life? I have responsibilities, I have _school,_ I have a _job,_ one of my friends went _missing_ and you just decide to- to just go and _disappear!_ Do you know how many ghosts have been attacking? Give me _one_ good reason I shouldn't just finish you off right here, right now."

He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Of _course_ he knew. Of _course_ he knew how hard it was. How _exhausting, painful_ and _lonely_ it could be. But he couldn't tell _her_ that. He couldn't explain. But now he knew why she was so tired. With him gone, and with Tucker, Sam, and Jazz helping him… There wasn't anyone else to keep the ghosts at bay. Well, besides his parents and the Guys In White, but they didn't really count.

Still, one thing managed to slip past his shock. "You… you were upset that I was gone?"

She blushed, scowling and shoving the gun back into his face. So she still hated him, then. But she _had_ been upset that he had vanished. Though… that was probably because she had so much to do because of it.

"_One. Good. Reason,_" she growled. He panicked, momentarily forgetting why he was here. She narrowed her eyes, fingers shifting to press down on the trigger.

"Wait!" He said quickly. "I do have something very, _very_ important to tell you! It's a matter of life and death."

She paused, looking at him suspiciously, like she thought he might be lying. Sometimes it _really_ warmed his heart to see just how much faith she had in him. Really, it was such an honor. Finally, after an agonizing moment, she lowered her gun and motioned for him to come inside. Relieved, he flew into the room after her. She wandered back to her bed, sitting down, so he perched on the window sill. She looked at him, frowning.

"Well?" She asked. "What's so important that you need _me_ for it?"

He took a deep breath. "Did you ever hear about a ghost specifically targeting you?"

"You mean, _besides_ you?" She asked, one eyebrow raised. After a second she slumped and nodded. "Yeah, got a warning from Jazz- you do know Jazz, right? Anyway, yeah. Some ghosts got a problem with me. What of it?"

"Well… they aren't finished. Just… here, all I know is that they're strong. I could barely beat the first one," and that wasn't technically a lie, "and there are more. I only know about one other, and he… Well, the point is that they've got a problem with you, and they won't stop until your dead."

"So you're here to tell me about it _why_ exactly?"

"Because…" he sighed. Might as well explain it all. "The first one I met was named Alkadih, and I had to kill her. She's gone forever." And Valerie actually looked surprised at that. "Alkadih was dangerous. I was gone for so long because I was recovering from what she did to me. She was sent to kill you. The second, and only other one I know of, is Mors."

"Okay…" she said. He could tell she wanted to know what exactly had happened, but now wasn't the time. It wouldn't _ever_ be the time to explain his death. ...But he couldn't just let everyone keep thinking he had gone missing, could he…? "So who is he?"

"I'm not sure about him, but he feels powerful. Like, he hasn't done anything yet, but I can sense his core, and I'm _sure_ he's dangerous," he continued. "So that means they have had at least two powerful ghosts, and I am willing to bet my life that they have more. And they are _determined_ to kill you."

"So why do _you_ care?" Valerie asked. "It's not like we're friends, Phantom."

He pushed away the pain that those words brought him. "Because I don't want you dead. And… there is one more thing you have to know? I spoke to Mors today."

"_What?_" She demanded, keeping her voice quiet as to not wake her father, just in the other room. Apartment walls didn't block much sound. "I thought he was one of the ones trying to _kill_ me?"

"Yeah," he said, "but he's more a messenger than a fighter. Well, that and a spy. He told me… If I went after them, they wouldn't stop at you. Everyone I care about will be killed. And that I had two other options. I can let them kill you, or… I can convince you to stop hunting?"

There was a beat of silence.

"You what?" Her voice was flat.

"I _know_ hunting is important to you, but giving it up, _at least_ until these ghosts lose interest or they're defeated, is for the best. Because otherwise," his voice trembled slightly, and he cursed himself for it, "you will be attacked. You will be _killed._ But if you just-"

"No," she interrupted. He stopped, waiting for her to continue. "Look, Phantom, I… _appreciate_ the concern. But no. I can't give up hunting for _them._ They're just proof that I should keep going. I can take care of myself, whether you believe it or not. They won't be a problem."

There was a chirp from behind him and he jumped, darting fully into Valerie's room and spinning around. A wisp. Had Mors sent it to check on Valerie? Or… to see if Danny would succeed? His ghost sense hadn't even gone off, so the wisp must be weak. It was a dull grey color, not even the size of his fist. And Valerie raised her gun.

"No!" He shouted, far too loud in the quiet apartment, and rushed over to it. He cupped the wisp in his hands, holding it against his chest to guard it from her. "You do _not_ want to shoot them. _Ever_."

"And why is that?"

He sighed, eyeing her, before carefully revealing the wisp. It chirped, before letting out an odd hum. He smiled, before remembering who it served.

"Well, Phantom? I'm waiting," she still hadn't lowered the gun. He sighed again.

"The wisps, not all of them, but a lot of them… They work for Mors. He can speak to them, to some extent, and they're basically pets, I think. He already hates you, and shooting another wisp won't help."

"...Another? What do you- Wait, that was _months_ ago!" She exclaimed. "How do you even _know_ about-"

"He told me the first time I met him," he said softly, looking down at the wisp. "It's probably here to see if you agreed to their offer. ...Is there any way you'll do that?"

"...Not in this life or the next."

He nodded. He held the wisp at eye level. "Tell Mors she said no. But if anyone even so much as _touches_ her, nothing will stop me from _tearing them_ _apart_."

The wisp chirped, and then darted out the window. After a second of silence, Valerie laughed.

"You'll tear them apart? Well, Phantom, I'm touched. You really _do_ care," Valerie's face hardened from a mocking grin into a flat glare. "Now if that was all, get out. Next time, I won't be so patient."

He opened his mouth to speak, but her glare caused the words to catch in his throat. He nodded, and flew from the room into the cool night air.

* * *

Danny made it back to his room without trouble, tossing the Thermos onto the bed. He never _had_ released the Box Ghost, had he? He groaned, walking over and letting himself fall onto the mattress. He was too tired to deal with that today, and he didn't trust the ghost with returning on his own if he was let out.

"Whatever," he muttered, fighting away tears. "It's not important…"

His conversation with Valerie… not only had she refused, as he knew she would, but… She'd brought up his disappearance, and school, and… what was he going to do? After Tucker's parents came back, where would he go? Would his parents eventually give up on him coming home? ...He _needed_ to fix this. But how?

He had no idea. How was he supposed to fix something that was this broken? His first thought was Clockwork, but Danny knew that the ghost couldn't help him. Not with this.

Eventually, in an attempt to escape his whirling thoughts, he slipped into a restless sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Sam knew there was a problem. She _knew_ something was bothering Danny, but every time anyone asked he said he was fine. She could almost laugh at that.

No, there was _no_ _way_ that Danny was fine. Or, really, that _any_ of them were, for that matter. Jazz was near snapping from the stress of balancing dealing with their parents, school, the occasional ghost attack, and Danny himself. Sam knew that Jazz was taking most of the weight onto her own shoulders. She could see the haunted look in her eyes whenever Danny wasn't looking, or when they were alone. They'd been spending more time together since Danny had- since the… incident.

Once, the same night that they had found out what happened to Danny, Jazz had asked a question, one that had been plaguing Sam ever since.

'_I saw how tired he was,' _Jazz had been saying, a far away look in her eyes. '_He'd barely been eating for days… I should have been with him. If I had been there, when Alkadih attacked… do you think he'd still be okay?'_

'Still be alive' was the unspoken ending to that question. That would have been enough. Jazz hadn't been finished.

'_Do you think… he blames me?'_ She'd asked next. And that got Sam thinking… _Did_ he blame them? _Did he blame her…?_

Sam sighed. Why couldn't this all just be simple? Why couldn't it have been a temporary problem? Why did he… why did he have to have died?

An old, heavy guilt pulled on her heart, dragging it down into her stomach. It _was_ her fault. Whether he blamed her or not, it was her fault. If she hadn't convinced him to go into the portal, not only would he still be alive, but none of their other problems would have even happened.

_She_ was the only reason that there were any ghost attacks to speak of. Without her, the portal would have never been activated.

Sam shook her head to clear it. She couldn't think like that. Sure, the bad would be gone, but so would the good.

She sighed, slipping off her bed. It was doing her no good just sitting around doing nothing. It was a bit earlier than she usually got up, and she doubted that Tucker _or_ Danny were going to wake up any time soon, so she couldn't visit them.

So… that left Jazz. Sam winced. She didn't look forward to seeing Maddie or Jack Fenton; the last time she had seen them had led to an interrogation and subsequent breakdown.

But she _had _been meaning to see them again for a while- it was hard standing by while they ran themselves ragged trying to find Danny while Sam knew exactly where he was.

So, slipping on her combat boots, Sam headed towards FentonWorks.

* * *

Jazz sighed, poking at her food. She didn't have much of an appetite, though she knew she needed to eat. Not getting enough food could lead to a multitude of distractions. Lightheadedness, exhaustion, scattered thoughts, dizziness- just to name a few.

Even so, it had been getting harder and harder to eat, and sleep. With how difficult it was to deal with her parents, while _also_ keeping up the facade of distress they would expect from her, it was just… getting to her.

The lies and the responsibility had hooked themselves into her skin. She couldn't shake them off, no matter how hard she tried. They just dug deeper, the lies spilling from her lips even as she wanted nothing more than to tell her parents the truth. To tell them Danny's secret.

But she couldn't do that. And nothing she did could convince Danny that _he_ should do it either. She could understand where he was coming from, but… this was more damaging in the long run.

Jazz sighed again, and stuck a forkful of eggs into her mouth. It tasted like cardboard, and she had to force herself to swallow. She felt sick. Maybe breakfast wasn't _that_ important after all…

There was a sudden knock on the door, and Jazz didn't hesitate to push her food away. She knew she was being a bit hypocritical, but… skipping _one_ meal shouldn't be that bad. (She knew that wasn't true, but she could eat later.)

She stood up, heading to the door. Her parents wouldn't have heard the knocking down in the lab- which… she couldn't actually be mad about today. They were preparing everything they could for a trip into the Ghost Zone. Weapons, defenses, improving the Specter Speeder… all on the desperate hope that it was a ghost that spirited Danny away.

They searched everywhere else in Amity. They'd pulled the police into it as well. Just another reason Jazz - or Danny - should tell them the truth. They were near certain a ghost took him at this point, hence the trip to the Zone. She hadn't been able to dissuade them yet. She wouldn't let them go. Not before, and certainly not _now_, with all the new dangers that had made themselves known. At the very least, she would have to convince them to let her go with them, or get them to accept some kind of guide- like Pandora, or Frostbite. That… yeah, that was never going to happen.

Jazz pulled the door open, not surprised in the slightest to see Sam. Without a word, she stood aside to let her in. Sam had come over several times, as had Tucker. Jazz hadn't been expecting a visit from them today, but that didn't mean they weren't welcome.

"Morning, Sam," Jazz greeted. Sam nodded in response, looking troubled. They wandered into the kitchen, and Sam helped herself to some water. "You look tired. Is something wrong, or…?"

_Or is it just Danny's death that's bothering you?_

Sam shrugged. "I just wanted to stop by. See how everything was going."

"...Thanks," Jazz said. The visits from Sam and Tucker were helping keep her together. Without their support… she wouldn't be able to do this. "I… I appreciate it."

Sam nodded, glancing around the kitchen, and into the surrounding rooms. She sighed, eyeing the door to the basement.

"They still in the lab?" She asked, crossing her arms. She couldn't really blame them either. Not while they were just trying to go after Danny.

"Yeah. You know, they… they want to go into the Ghost Zone," Jazz murmured. "They think a ghost might've taken him."

Sam nodded. "Technically… ghosts _are_ the reason he disappeared. Just not in the way that they think."

"Yeah…" Jazz hesitated for a moment, before sighing. "I think we should tell them. I know Danny doesn't want to, but this is all just getting worse and worse. If he _doesn't_, then… I think someone is going to get hurt."

Sam didn't respond, but Jazz could tell that she agreed. After a moment, she motioned to the door.

"You want to see them?"

For a moment, Sam hesitated. And then she nodded.

Together, they walked down into the lab. The scent of burning metal and ectoplasm greeted them, the smell strong even on the stairwell. Jazz's parents were hard at work, her mom working on a few new ecto-guns while her father was checking on the Specter Speeder.

They didn't notice either of them standing at the edge of the stairwell. Jazz coughed softly, catching her mother's attention.

"Oh! Jazz," she said. At these words, her father peered over at them, his smile falling short. He was happy to see them, of course, but… he hadn't been his usual self since Danny had disappeared. None of them had. "And it's good to see you too, Sam."

Sam nodded jerkily. None of them knew exactly how to act around the Fenton's anymore.

"How… has it been going?" She asked. Maddie and Jack glanced at each other, deflating.

"We're getting by," Maddie said. She didn't sound so sure. "The preparations are nearly done."

"Are you… are you _sure_ that it was a ghost that took Danny?" Sam asked.

Jack's head snapped up, and he stood up straighter. He towered above them as he began to speak, an edge of desperation in his voice.

"It was a ghost for sure!" He declared. "Nothing else could have done it. He's in there-" he pointed towards the portal- "I know it! When I find the ghost who did it-"

Maddie placed a hand on his arm and he cut himself off. For a moment, he just stared straight ahead. Then, he slumped, and stared at the ground.

Jazz saw Sam's hands clench into fists at her sides.

"_Why_ would they take him?" Sam asked. "What reason would they have? They could just go after you if that was the point. If they wanted to send a message, they could have- could have killed him. Or, they would have given some other sign.

"If they want something from you," she continued, "they would _tell_ you they have him. There's nothing! Why would a ghost take him and then… just do _nothing?_"

The room went silent. Maddie and Jack didn't respond, just stared at the ground. Their faces were sad- broken, perhaps. Sam trembled, and she looked like she wanted to take the words back. She didn't try to.

There was nothing she could do. She and Jazz, they _knew _there was nothing in the Ghost Zone. They _knew_ where Danny was. They _knew_ that the only thing that a trip to the Zone would bring was, at best, a sense of failure. At worst, it could bring pain.

The silence in the room cut off any words that could have been said. It was so quiet, so tense, that even the _thought_ of speaking made Jazz's throat close up. Eventually, Sam broke it.

"Sorry. I just- I can't do this right now," She muttered, before running back up the stairs. Jazz was torn; stay here or go after Sam? Finally, casting a guilty look towards her parents, she dashed up the stairs and out of the basement.

* * *

Vlad was _so_ _close_.

He was so, _so_ _close_ to making it _perfect_. His thoughts spun idly around his head as he stared, transfixed by his tests. Exhaustion dulled his excitement slightly - he couldn't quite recall the last time he'd slept more than an hour at a time this week - but he pushed the feeling away.

He couldn't sleep now, not when he was so close.

He stared at the contraption before him. It was a tall, cylindrical tube made of glass and metal, big enough to fit a person. And there _was_ a person inside. Or, rather, there was a body.

Clones never worked, and he'd never gotten a sample of Daniel's DNA in mid-shift. But that was fine. He didn't _need_ a clone, he just needed a… a shell. It didn't have to live, didn't have to shift.

All it had to be was _stable_. Well, that and _human_. Then Daniel- the _real one_\- could possess the empty, lifeless body Vlad had created. That counted, right?

That would bring him back?

Daniel could simply hide the shell whenever he ran off to fight ghosts. It wouldn't even be morally wrong! Wouldn't go against the pesky feelings that held Damiel back so often. The shell wouldn't be living- it wouldn't think, feel, or anything. He wouldn't be overshadowing a living being. And therefore, there would be no objections from Daniel.

It was the perfect plan.

And Vlad was so, _so _close to getting it right.

A ghost rose up from the floor beside him. Harold, his butler, eyed him. That wasn't the ghosts real name, but he hasn't exactly _told_ Vlad what his real name was. He hadn't stopped Vlad from calling him that either, so it would do for now. Harold was a new hire, and Vlad was still unsure _why_ exactly he had allowed him to work here. But that wasn't important right now.

He'd cleaned the blood off of his suit- which was good. Vlad couldn't have his butler running around looking like a _murderer_, now could he?

"Sir," Harold said softly, "you need to sleep. If this one is a success, you will need to be rested when you go find Phantom."

"His name is _Daniel_," Vlad hissed. Harold didn't respond. He'd been quiet ever since he'd been forced to dispose of the… failures. The first few tries had destabilized, and the _other_ shells had had _far_ too much life in them. They'd been animals really, but they had fought back. That was where the blood on Harold's suit had come from. It would have been a shame if it'd stained- even on the dark fabric, the blood would have been noticeable. Thank goodness for intangibility. "And I can't sleep _now_. There could be a problem, or-"

"I will take care of it, sir," Harold said. "And if it is outside my capabilities, I will wake you."

Vlad hesitated. He _did_ want to rest… How long had he been awake now? He wasn't quite sure. He didn't even know what time it was, he realized. He finally nodded.

"Fine," he said, "but if a problem arises, you _will_ be held accountable."

He shifted into his ghost form and flew from the lab, heading right through the ceiling. He went straight to his room and sighed, shifting back.

He still couldn't believe that Daniel had gotten himself killed. Anger rose in his core at the thought. _Alkadih_, Daniel's friend had called her. She was lucky that Daniel had killed her. If he hadn't… Vlad would have _torn_ _her_ _apart_.

His thoughts turned towards his experiments, and he frowned. Would his efforts be appreciated? Would they even work? Would it mean something in the end?

He just wanted to give Daniel another chance. He just wanted to bring him back.

Most of all…

Well, Vlad had been alone for years. Alone, both in the fact there was no one else around, and that… there were no other Halfa's.

And then came Daniel. For once, Vlad knew there were others like him. But no matter what he did, Daniel _refused_ to come to his side. _Refused_ to be his student, his heir, his son_._

And now that possibility had been torn from him. Daniel had _died_. He was no longer a Halfa, just a ghost.

But if Vlad could bring him back, then it would all change. He _needed_ to bring him back. Because while there was Dani, she was a clone, and was off living who knows where. She was an _imperfect_ copy. So his only hope was Daniel.

Because most of all… Vlad didn't want to be alone again.

* * *

Tucker leaned back in his chair, sighing. He'd set up a workstation in the living room, days ago, to give Danny some privacy, and hadn't quite gotten around to moving his stuff back to his room. He couldn't help but be hopeful about their situation now. It was all starting to work itself out. Sure, there were problems. Danny's parents were starting to go off the rails in their search, the ghosts were still after Valerie, Danny was still coming to terms with it all… but it was coming back together.

Danny had healed, they had some information, and everyone was beginning to accept what had happened.

He sighed again. The only problem on his mind right now was what he was going to do with his parents. They'd be home in just two days.

Where was Danny going to go? His parents weren't _against _Phantom, but he didn't think they would _house_ him. Especially without an explanation as to _why_. Same with Sam's. Really, the only place Danny could 'reasonably' stay was the Zone.

Tucker snorted softly. _Yeah right._ Like _that_ was gonna happen.

* * *

Mors drifted towards the library, flying slowly. He hadn't visited this lair in a while, his boss watching him closely. If she caught wind of him visiting _this_ ghost in particular… there would be repercussions. She didn't like the idea of Mors talking with most ghosts, though he wasn't quite sure why. He didn't know anything important enough to be kept secret. But _this_ ghost, she wasn't fond of.

On top of that, the ghost this lair belonged to had been imprisoned a while back. He had been released, but Walker was _furious_ about it. He was keeping a close eye on him, waiting for a mistake he could imprison him for again. Mors had wanted to avoid Walker, so he had, in turn, avoided this lair. He hadn't liked staying away so long, finding that he missed the library- and its owner.

He alighted on the doorstep, the feeling of ground at his feet an odd one. He rarely touched the ground, always opting to fly or at least hover, but it always felt necessary when visiting here.

It was only polite, after all.

He knocked softly, and the door swung open without a sound. An invitation to enter. He couldn't help but drift inside, though his feet still brushed the ground just slightly. He moved to the center of the large room before letting himself drop fully to the ground again.

The single wisp he had with him chirped softly, excited. He preferred to have more, but this _was_ a library. Wisps weren't known for their silence.

"Ah! Mors!" The Ghost Writer called, jumping down from an elevated desk where he had been writing. "I didn't expect you to visit."

"Yes. I have been… preoccupied," Mors said. He looked around the room, examining the bookshelves. "You've been busy. There are quite a few new additions here."

The writer nodded. "Not much else to do. I think they'll interest you! Though, I suppose, all books do."

Mors hummed, amused. He couldn't refute that.

"If you would allow me, Wri, I would love to read them," he said. The Ghost Writer nodded, smiling.

"Of course! What's the point of writing if you're just going to lock it all up? Can't just let it fade away."

Even the thought sent a spark of fear through Mors's core. To just let the information stored within these pages crumble into dust, to let them age and fade without being _shared…_ His Obsession would _never_ allow that.

Mors hummed again, considering the other ghost before him.

"Wri, may I ask you a question?" He asked. The Ghost Writer, who was floating over to one of the bookshelves, paused. After a moment, he nodded.

"Can't promise the answer, but go ahead and ask."

"What do you think of Phantom?"

The Ghost Writer paused. The usually upbeat ghost seemed subdued, almost angry. Almost.

"Ah… Phantom? What about him?" He asked slowly.

Mors tilted his head. "I know you and Phantom don't have a pleasant relationship. I read your book, and I saw all of the chaos during the events themselves. If there are details left out of your writings, however, or your personal observations or feelings, it would be very much appreciated."

The other ghost hesitated. "Is this… going to anyone else?"

Mors paused. The Ghost Writer knew that he worked for someone, but not who. Mors didn't mind, really. He knew the Writer would keep the secret. Actually, he _preferred_ people knowing over it being completely hidden. As long as those who knew didn't spread the information, at least.

It _hurt_, swearing to keep information sealed away. He'd promised Phantom he'd do so, if he trusted him with his Obsession. That had hurt as well, but Obsessions were _vital_. Some were obvious, and some were not. But they were _always_ important. He wouldn't share a ghosts Obsession so lightly, even if he wanted to.

_This_, on the other hand… It was simple facts and opinions. But, then, his boss wouldn't want them anyway. She shot down most information he tried to give her. Irritation crept through his core at that thought. She didn't want anything but knowledge on how to _kill_.

She didn't _want_ little facts. She _hated_ opinions. _Mors_ though…

"No," he said. "This is personal curiosity. No one else has to know, if that is your price."

The Ghost Writer nodded. He drifted over to one of the shelves and pulled out the book he'd written during the Christmas truce. Perhaps Mors should read it again…

"Phantom is… well. He destroyed my work, behaved like a brat, and sent me to Walker's prison," he said. "However… he learned his lesson, protects his friends valiantly, and is generally good natured. I hold a grudge, but… he _is_ learning. He's improving. So I guess… He's a good enough kid, but he's also an _insufferable_ _child _who can't accept failure."

Mors nodded, before hesitating. After a moment, he spoke again.

"Would you… if there were a disaster, would you side with Phantom or the others?"

"Much as it pains me," the Ghost Writer said, "I would have to say Phantom. He has overcome many challenges that I would have otherwise thought to be hopeless. Pariah Dark, for example. But, Mors, I have to ask… why the sudden interest?"

He hummed, his wisp chirping in response. The writer glanced back and forth between them, as if trying to decipher the message that had passed between them. Mors had tried to teach him something of the language once, but the sounds were near indistinguishable to most. As it was, the communication barely meant anything anyway.

"I have been sent to watch Phantom several times. My superiors have taken an interest in him. He killed a member of the group, and must deal with the consequences," The information flowed freely from Mors. The Ghost Writer was one of the few people he trusted. Besides, the other ghost _had_ given him what he wanted. Usually, information was used in trade. Others may not see it that way, but Mors did. Information… always either stolen, traded for, or gifted. He, personally, preferred trading. "I must admit… speaking to him face to face, he is not what I thought he would be. I don't quite know what to think of him yet."

The Ghost Writer nodded. Something seemed to be troubling him, however. Mors tilted his head.

"Is something on your mind, Wri?" He asked.

"...What side are you on?"

He hesitated. "...What do you mean?"

"You sound… it's like you aren't just gathering information. It's like you're trying to figure out if you should fight for him- to help him. So… Your superiors, Phantom, yourself… Who's side are you on?"

"Does it matter?"

The writer looked at him, frowning. "Yes. Not to me, no, but for _you._ Do you even know?"

"...I serve my superiors," Mors said softly. "But more than that, I serve those who seek knowledge."

And… who was that? The people who cast aside information if it isn't _perfect?_ Or the one desperate enough they would ask the enemy? That took _any_ information, who would risk trading his _secrets_ to get it?

He had tested Phantom at first. Stating that the Box Ghost wasn't a member… true though it was, it was so _useless_, so _insignificant_ that if he had presented it to his boss she would have cast him aside altogether. But Phantom… he _took it._

He'd latched onto the knowledge. Because… _Phantom_ was the one who wanted to understand. _Phantom_ was the one who wanted to learn. _Phantom_ was in need of knowledge, and he was willing to _give it_ in return.

By the rule Mors had kept since first arriving in the Zone, it was _Phantom_ that he should be loyal to. But… he _couldn't_.

There was a _reason _Mors worked for the people he did.

"...Thank you, Wri," he murmured. The Ghost Writer frowned.

"What did I do?"

"You have given me something to think about."


End file.
